Dangerous Truths
by whydoyouneedtoknow
Summary: Complete. AU. Crossover between LwD and Neurotica's Truths. Summer after Harry's fifth year. People are having nightmares, animals are behaving strangely, magic itself seems to be breaking up. Can Harry overcome prejudices in time to fix what's wrong?
1. One

(A/N: This story is a crossover between two AU universes. The one written by me is made up, at the present moment, of the stories "Living with Danger" and "Living without Danger", plus various one-shots. The one written by a lovely lady named Michelle, penname of Neurotica, is made up, again at the moment, of the stories "Truths", "Lies", and "Consequences", plus one or two one-shots.

The main setting of the story is the Truths universe. We begin shortly before the opening of Chapter Twenty-Three of "Consequences". Thus, there are spoilers for all of Neurotica's stories up to that point. I have tried to make this story intelligible to people who have not read her series, but I very much recommend them. They're believable, enjoyable, and low on OC's, though I don't think anyone who enjoys LwD minds OC's too much.

Anyway. Off we go! Thanks to Neurotica for agreeing to this!)

* * *

Remus Lupin jerked awake in the darkness of his bedroom at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, his face and various other body parts tingling. He got up, felt around on the bedside table until he located his wand, pointed it at himself, and muttered an incantation. Cold water shot from the tip, soaking him and making him swear under his breath. 

_But I needed that._

He hadn't been surprised by the other person in his dream. Hermione Granger had been much on his mind over the past three days. He'd been the one to find her parents dead in their home, murdered by Death Eaters – her father blasted apart by Bellatrix Lestrange's Reductor curse, her mother's throat torn out by Fenrir Grayback...

Rage and disgust threatened to sweep Remus away. He carefully put his wand down on the nightstand, so as not to snap it in half, and took a firm hold of a length of soaking bedsheet, beginning to twist it in his hands, wishing it were Grayback's neck. He knew, in the small portion of his mind which was still rational, that he would never actually do such a thing, but at the moment, he didn't care.

_And I can't even have a decent nightmare about Hermione. That would be too easy. No, I have to have... what was that, anyway? Wish-fulfillment? But I've never felt anything for her that I can recall, not like this. I like her, she's a good student, and a good friend to Harry, and certainly I would have stopped her parents' deaths if I could, but what does that have to do with this? _

For the dream had been utterly, and unexpectedly, erotic. Remus had desired the woman in his dream, and her actions had left him in very little doubt that the desire was mutual. He hadn't even been able to claim that she was too young for him, since this dream version of Hermione had been not sixteen years old, but closer to Remus' own age of thirty-six, a little younger perhaps. Very close, in fact, to the age of Remus' current girlfriend, Emmeline Vance.

Remus smiled, thinking of the black-haired witch who'd calmly walked into his life as a fellow member of the Order of the Phoenix and Harry's teacher in Occlumency, and stayed to become so much more. It was a great relief to realize that he hadn't lost all feeling for her – in fact, the thought of her was starting to clear away his leftover feelings from the dream. He might like to have a dream like that with her in a starring role. Even better, he'd like the dream to come true.

He picked up his wand and began to dry his sheets. People did sometimes have dreams for no good reason. He wasn't falling hopelessly in love with his surrogate son's best friend. Everything was going to be all right.

Well, the first two were true, anyway. He wasn't so sure about the last one.

_And speaking of Harry..._

"No," moaned a voice Remus had no trouble recognizing. He was on his feet and moving as the cries continued. "No, no, no... Sirius! Pearl, no! Remus, Hermione, danger! No! No!"

Remus entered Harry's room, crossing to his bed. He could see Harry thrashing around, obviously having a bad dream. In the other bed, Ron Weasley slept undisturbed; apparently, Harry's cries had not yet escalated to a level that would wake him.

_Let's see if we can keep it that way. _

Remus shook Harry's shoulder firmly. "Harry," he called. "Harry, wake up. It's all right."

Harry shuddered all over. His eyes flew open, darted around wildly, and finally fixed on Remus' face. "Moony?"

"I'm here, Harry. You were just having a bad dream. It's all right now."

Harry stared first at Remus, then down at his own hands, then back up. "Is Padfoot – Sirius – is he all right?"

"He's fine. He's asleep."

"Please can I see him?"

Remus hesitated. Sirius hadn't been sleeping well recently, and he was a little loath to disturb his best friend. On the other hand, Harry had obviously been very frightened by his dream, and if seeing Sirius alive and well, though a bit sleepy, would help him...

"Will you be all right here by yourself for a minute?"

Harry nodded, sitting up and reaching for his glasses. Remus laid a hand on his shoulder for a moment, then stood and went back out into the hallway.

Sirius, too, was making noises in his sleep, but these weren't the kind of noises Harry had been making. In fact, if Remus was any judge, Sirius was having something along the lines of the dream he himself had been having only a few moments before.

He leaned over Sirius and shook him. "Padfoot, wake up," he said.

Sirius flung an arm up, dragged Remus down to him, and kissed him on the lips.

Remus quickly extracted himself before Sirius could go any farther than that.

_I'm going to want to hear about this, I suspect._

He pulled his wand out of his pajamas and repeated the incantation he'd used earlier on himself, after first shutting the door and putting an Imperturbable Charm on it, so as not to wake the entire house.

Sirius yelled as a stream of cold water struck him in the face, and jerked upright, spluttering. Remus kept the water coming for a moment or two, just to ensure Sirius was really awake, then shut it off.

"What the hell?" was the cleanest thing out of Sirius' mouth for the next thirty seconds. When he paused for breath, Remus said, "Harry had a nightmare."

"And another thing–" Sirius stopped. "He did?"

"Yes. And he's asking for you."

"So you felt a need to douse me with cold water?"

"Well, I tried waking you up more traditionally, but you seemed to think I was part of your dream."

"Huh?"

"You kissed me, Sirius. Not that I'm not flattered, but I don't swing that way."

"What – I – ew!" Sirius got out of bed, shuddering artistically. "Neither do I, and you know it, you little wanker. I'm sorry. I had no idea that was you."

"Obviously. Who did you think it was?"

Sirius found his own wand and began drying himself off. "Honestly, I have no idea. I've never seen her before, as far as I know. A black woman, about our age or a little younger, totally gorgeous. And she sure acted like she knew me." He stopped and looked at Remus, a little shamefaced. "Did I... say anything?"

"Nothing intelligible," said Remus with a straight face. "Come on, Harry's waiting."

Harry was staring out the window when they arrived in his bedroom. He jerked around at the sound of their footsteps, and nearly ran across the room to them, hugging them both hard. Remus and Sirius exchanged a look over Harry's head. "Butterbeer and chocolate," said Remus under his breath.

Sirius nodded and led Harry out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen, where he got his godson settled at the table while Remus rummaged in the pantry. Three bottles of butterbeer weren't hard to come by, and his secret stash of Honeydukes chocolate bars was untouched. He pulled out a peanut butter bar for himself, one with walnuts for Harry, and almonds for Sirius, and brought his selections to the table.

Harry accepted the food and gave Remus a wan smile. "Thanks," he said.

"Bad dream?" said Sirius, unwrapping his chocolate.

Harry nodded.

"Voldemort?" asked Remus quietly.

Harry frowned. "I don't think so. It was too weird. And I didn't see him in it anywhere." He took a bite of his chocolate. "Lot of other people, though," he said indistinctly around it.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," said Remus automatically. "Other people like who?"

Harry swallowed. "You two," he said. "And Hermione. Draco Malfoy, for some reason. And a couple of women, and a little girl, looked like a second year. I don't think I know them. I mean, I knew them in the dream, but I don't know them now that I'm awake."

Sirius hadn't paid attention to the end of this at all. "You dreamed of Draco Malfoy? No wonder you were screaming. What did he do?"

"That's just it. He didn't do anything. He was walking with us and talking, and laughing, like we were friends or something. He even poked Hermione, and she didn't make a big fuss over it. She just poked him back."

"Kind of like you do to her?" asked Sirius.

"Kind of. And he piggybacked the girl a little ways, and so did I. We were near Hogsmeade, just walking, not really going anywhere, I don't think. Like we used to go out for walks in the woods near the cottage. Not walking to go anywhere, but just to walk. And to be together. You know."

"Like a family," said Remus.

"I guess. We got to this one place, and all of a sudden light flashed up all around us. It was this nasty green color like swamp water, and everyone was screaming and holding onto everyone else, and then it went away, and nothing was different. We were still where we had been, no one was gone, and we were just starting to laugh about being all afraid of nothing..." Harry stopped, staring down at his hands, which were starting to shake.

"What happened?" asked Sirius very quietly.

"We... we started... I don't know. I guess... _dissolving_."

"Dissolving?" Remus saw his own confusion mirrored in Sirius' face. "How do you mean?"

"I don't know. It was like we were made of sand, dry sand, and this wind came out of nowhere and started blowing us away, little by little. I could _feel_ it – it didn't hurt, not like pain, but I was losing little pieces of myself, losing everything that makes me _me_, and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. Not for me, not for anyone." Harry pulled his glasses off and set them on the table, pressing his arm against his face. Sirius moved a little closer to him and started rubbing his back gently. Remus laid a hand on his shoulder again.

"The worst part was watching it happen to everyone else," said a choked-up voice from behind the arm. "And listening. Malfoy and Hermione were holding onto each other, even while the wind was blowing them apart, and he kept saying something about them never really being apart. And you were holding onto one of the women, Remus. She looked kind of like a grown-up Hermione."

Remus jumped. Sirius looked at him oddly and mouthed, _What?_

_Tell you later,_ Remus answered the same way.

"And you were holding the other woman and the little girl, Sirius. And me. You and the woman were trying to shield us, but the wind got past you, and the little girl just blew away out of my arms like a ghost, or like she was never there to begin with..."

Sirius nodded slowly. "That sounds like one nasty dream," he said. "What did they look like? The woman, and the girl?"

"They were pretty, I guess. They were black. The girl had lighter skin than the woman. And grey eyes. I saw that while I was holding her."

"And she was a second year, you said?"

"Yeah, I guess. She was really small, but she looked more grown-up than a first year. She was... more womanly."

"Woman... oh."

Remus grinned at a discomfited-looking Sirius, who made a very rude gesture in his direction. "It sounds like you just had a nightmare, Harry," he said soothingly. "Dreams usually don't make much sense, and this one sounds like a prime example. Do you think you can go back to sleep?"

"Can I finish my butterbeer first?"

Both men laughed. "No, I'll do it for you," teased Sirius. "Of course you can."

Harry made a fist in his godfather's direction and took a defiant gulp of his butterbeer, then choked on it. Remus thumped him on the back.

When Harry was back in bed, the Marauders, by common consent, drifted back down to the kitchen.

"So you want to tell me what was up?" asked Sirius, sitting on the floor by the fireplace.

Remus put his elbows on the table and sighed. "I was having the same kind of dream you were having," he admitted.

"Not with the same woman, I hope. If you were, I'll have to kill you."

Remus threw a butterbeer cap at Sirius. "No. She looked... like Harry said. Like Hermione, but our age. And like you said, she wasn't acting like a stranger."

"An 'oh, hi, how are you' kind of not a stranger, or a 'cold shower needed' kind of not a stranger?"

Remus worked through this. "Cold shower needed," he said finally. "I had to give myself one as soon as I woke up. And that was the most convoluted sentence I've ever heard at three o'clock in the morning."

"So sue me."

"Why should I bother? I can just blackmail you. It's easier."

"Blackmail me? With what?"

"Those recordings of you singing in the shower ought to do."

"But you've overlooked a vital fact, my dear Mr. Moony."

"What might that be, my dear Mr. Padfoot?"

"For any dirt you have on me, I have an equal or greater amount on you."

"Ha."

"I do."

"Prove it."

"Oh, I'm sure I could think of a few things you don't want Emmeline to know."

"That's just nasty."

"You know it."

Domestic harmony was thus reestablished, and the men eventually returned to bed, each bidding the other a sleepy good night at the top of the stairs. And if their sleep was not untroubled, at least it brought them no more dreams of strangers.

* * *

The next day, after the Grangers' funeral, the living room of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was nearly full. Arthur Weasley held Molly while Bill sat nearby, twiddling his wand between his fingers. Tonks was sitting in an armchair, staring into space. Sirius and Remus occupied opposite ends of the sofa, with Emmeline between them, her head on Remus' shoulder, his arms around her. 

"What's going to happen to Hermione?" Bill asked quietly, watching his mother sob into his father's chest.

"She has a sister, doesn't she?" Remus asked hoarsely.

Molly lifted her head from Arthur's chest. "No, she's an only child," she said before bursting into tears again.

"Oh," Remus said. "I thought she had a sister…" he muttered. He looked to the floor with a furrowed brow before shaking himself from his thoughtful daze.

"Glad she doesn't," said Sirius. "That'd be another orphaned kid."

"No, I was thinking an older sister," said Remus. "Much older. Possibly even in a position to take care of her. But I guess I'm just imagining things."

"She can stay with us," said Sirius. "We'll take care of her. Most of her family's in France, Harry says. The last thing she needs is a move and a new school on top of everything else. I mean, it's her decision, of course, but I'd think she'd rather stay with people she knows."

* * *

The Order meeting that night was fairly quiet. All the people who would have made it otherwise were either still in shock from the Grangers' deaths or not present. Remus was thinking especially of the Order's spy inside the ranks of the Death Eaters, Naomi Watts, who had once been his fiancée. She had broken his heart pretty thoroughly by joining Voldemort just before the Potters had been killed, and telling him a week afterwards. It had taken him all this time to get up the courage to be interested in anyone else. 

_But I'm so glad I did._ He cast a sidelong look at Emmeline, who was reporting on unauthorized Portkey usage (she worked in the Department of Magical Transportation). She was everything he'd ever wanted in a woman...

For an instant, his mysterious dream woman smiled at him again, but he banished her firmly from his mind. Hermione was not his own age, and Emmeline was beautiful the way she was.

Sirius was now talking about the mysterious man he'd run into in Diagon Alley, literally, who had been hugged by Narcissa Malfoy. "He's no relative of hers," he said. "I know them all. And you know pureblood marriage vows. There's no way she's got herself a boyfriend, unless Lucius died and we didn't hear about it."

"And if that's happened, you're going to be pissed that you weren't there," said Remus lightly.

"Hell with there, I'm going to be pissed I wasn't the cause," retorted Sirius. He had several scores to settle with Lucius Malfoy, most of them involving harm to Remus, Harry, and himself.

"If we may continue," said Dumbledore, but Remus could see his eyes, twinkly as ever, and knew Dumbledore didn't really mean it. "It is always possible that Lucius Malfoy, being a fugitive from justice, has chosen to disguise himself via Polyjuice Potion."

Sirius groaned. "I'm such a moron."

"Tell me something I don't know," said Remus under his breath, making Emmeline giggle and even Tonks, still mourning her boyfriend Kingsley Shacklebolt, crack a smile.

Just then, a door slammed at the top of the stairs. Naomi came charging down, gasping for breath. "Giants," she panted out. "Giants in Diagon Alley... headed for Muggle London..."

Sirius swore and jumped to his feet, dragging Tonks up with him and heading for the fire. Arthur Weasley and his two eldest sons, Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, and Sturgis Podmore were right behind him. Remus started to follow, but Dumbledore motioned for him to sit before bringing up the rear of the little parade.

"Sirius already almost lost you once," whispered Emmeline as Molly Weasley brought the coughing Naomi a cup of water. "He'll fight better if he knows you're safe."

Remus rolled his eyes but didn't complain. His leg still hadn't entirely healed from his three-month ordeal through continental Europe – he'd been ambushed during a mission for the Order, lost his wand, and been chased all over France by Death Eaters, being captured several times and tortured badly once before finally being found by Olympe Maxime near the border of Spain. As if that weren't bad enough, three months meant three full moons, and Remus had gotten used to the double boon of Padfoot's company and his Wolfsbane Potion during his monthly transformations. He considered it something on the order of a miracle that he'd survived at all.

Naomi got her breathing under control and sipped at the water. "Anything interesting going on here?" she quipped.

"No," said Remus shortly. "Did you know about the Grangers?"

"No, and you have no idea how sorry I am," said Naomi without looking at him. "Bellatrix has been laughing about it for days. I want to curse her sorry little head off and kick it across the English Channel."

"Hell with the English Channel, I'd kick it across the Atlantic," muttered Emmeline. She and Hermione had a lot in common, and had gotten along well from the moment they'd met. "And drop Grayback right in the middle of the ocean."

_Why do I attract vindictive women?_ Remus wondered whimsically.

"Lucius Malfoy thought it was a laugh too," Naomi went on. "He's back in England, you know. Using Polyjuice to get around. He's been home a few times, but I wouldn't recommend staking the place out. I think he may have a contact in the Ministry."

Remus filed that under "tell Padfoot as soon as he gets back". It was the kind of thing Sirius Black, Head of the Auror Office, would be very interested in.

"But he's got something to deal with he didn't count on." Naomi looked as though she couldn't decide whether to be glad or sorry. "His son's gone insane."

"Insane?" repeated Remus in astonishment. "Draco Malfoy?"

Naomi nodded. "Narcissa's been trying to keep it quiet, but Nott was at their house for something or other and heard him upstairs, shouting about a voice in his head, begging for someone to get it out. And then he started screaming about danger and the color black, and calling for people. It was that, who he was calling for, that convinced Nott he'd really gone out of his mind."

"Why?" asked Molly. "Who was he calling for?"

Naomi smiled. "Remus," she said, pointing at him. "Sirius. Harry and Hermione. A couple of other names, women's names, that Nott couldn't recall. But those were the ones that stuck with him."

"For good reason," said Emmeline. "Why would a little snot like Draco Malfoy be calling for people he's hated for years?"

Remus didn't answer. From the moment Naomi had begun to tell them about Draco Malfoy's madness, he'd been struck with the most peculiar feeling that he ought to do something about it, and more, that he ought to know exactly what to do, or who to talk to so that it would get done.

_But what can I do? I can't exactly go to Malfoy Manor – Narcissa would slam the door in my face, if she didn't curse me out of existence. And why should I do anything, anyway? Draco Malfoy is none of my concern anymore. All he ever was to me was my student, and I quit teaching at Hogwarts after Harry's third year. _

But the nagging feeling wouldn't go away. On the contrary, it was starting to get stronger, and other feelings were creeping in with it, feelings which insisted that Draco Malfoy was very much his concern, that he had been for a long time and would always continue to be, that he was every bit as much to Remus as Harry was...

_That's impossible. I'm overtired. I need to go to bed. _

But bed was out of the question, at least until Sirius got home safely.

"I have an idea," said Emmeline in his ear, startling him slightly. "Why don't we see if we can get that map working properly."

"Good idea," agreed Remus hastily.

They went up the stairs together, hand in hand.

* * *

Nearly an hour later, Sirius staggered in the front door of Number Twelve supported by Albus Dumbledore, very pale, bleeding from two or three cuts across his chest and shoulder, and looking highly confused. Molly got him onto a sofa immediately, then handed him a Blood Replenishment Potion and began sealing the gashes. 

"Can't I let you go anywhere?" asked Remus reproachfully.

"You should see the other bloke," whispered Sirius.

"Har har. What was it, anyway?"

"Car door. Damn giant kicked it at just the wrong angle. These were a lot worse at first."

"Worse at first?" Remus frowned. Something wasn't adding up. "All right, start at the beginning."

"And go on until I reach the end, then stop?"

"Yes, that would be nice."

"I can try." Sirius took a deep breath and let it out. "I'd given the orders. Confund them first, then go for a Trip Jinx. And it was working. Two of them – there were three – went down. But the third one stayed up somehow. Then I got nailed with the car door just as I was about to get everyone organized to Stun it, and it was about to step on me. I couldn't move, there wasn't anyone nearby..."

_I swear he practices where to put significant pauses. _

"It was a horse, Moony. A winged horse. Black, but not a thestral. Beautiful thing. Think it was a mare. It was flying around the giant's head, whinnying and screaming and making a racket, and the giant turned to look at it and put its foot somewhere else. And then the deer showed up."

"The dear what?"

"No, a deer. You know, like Prongs. But this was a doe. No antlers, and even a few spots left. A yearling, I guess. It put its head down on my chest, and I must have blacked out for a while. When I woke up, it was gone, so was the horse, the giant was down, and Dumbledore was getting me up to help me Apparate back here. But I swear I was hurt a lot worse before it showed up." Sirius looked down at his blood-smeared chest. "I could have been imagining it, I guess. But I didn't imagine the horse. Plenty of people saw that."

"And you had to Obliviate most of them."

"Not my job." Sirius flashed him a small smile, then closed his eyes. "Think I'm going to sleep now," he muttered. "Tell Harry I'm all right?"

"Will do. Glad it's the truth. See you in the morning, Padfoot."

"Night, Moony."

_Deer and winged horses in London. Draco Malfoy losing his mind. Harry having nightmares. And my dreams and Sirius'... not quite nightmares, but not the kind you want, either. _

_What else can go wrong, here?_

* * *

Somewhere far away, a being groaned to herself, the sound coming out as a low howl. 

_No, no, no. You NEVER ask that question. That is a very bad question to ask. _

_Because it is exactly the kind of question the universe delights in answering. _

* * *

(A/N: Thanks to all the people who voted that they didn't care! With that, I was able to at least partially rationalize writing this! Plus, there will be hints along the way of this story as to the future of the LwD universe! 

Michelle, if you see any major boo-boos, or have suggestions, please feel free to point out or suggest! I'm on your turf here, after all... Oh, I disclaim the four lines in the middle of this chapter that I borrowed from you. You know the ones... the ones that made me threaten to write this thing in the first place...

As usual, I plead for reviews, and also as usual, it's time to play "Find Those Characters"! Can you figure out what is going on and who is where? Hint: something that didn't happen in one of my AU's has happened here. Good luck!)


	2. Two

(A/N: This chapter takes place in the middle of Chapter Twenty-Four of "Consequences". Thank you.)

* * *

Emmeline slumped at her kitchen table, her head on her arms, sobbing quietly.

_How could he? How could Remus do this to me? First kissing that... that Death Eater spy _bitch,_ and then lying to me about it! I think I could have forgiven him the kiss, but he _lied_ to me! _

_What if he's lying when he says it's over between them? What if everything he ever told me was a lie? What if..._

"What if he charms a pig to fly and make a mess on your roof?" said a quiet, humorous voice nearby.

Emmeline jerked her head up to see a woman sitting across from her. "How did you get in here?" she demanded.

"You're asleep. This is a dream." The woman smiled at her. "Truth to tell, I think sleep's the best thing for you right now. That, and a handkerchief." She lifted her hand and plucked one out of thin air. "Here." She handed it to Emmeline.

Emmeline wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "Thank you," she said. "Who are you, anyway?"

"You can call me Danger. Most people do. And you're Emmeline Vance, correct?"

"That's right." Emmeline looked more closely at her visitor. "Are you any relation to Hermione Granger?"

"You might say that. You think a lot of Hermione, don't you?"

"Yes. She's a very smart girl, a very good one, and she didn't deserve what happened to her... oh, damn, here I go again..." Emmeline felt the tears start up in her eyes again. "No one deserves to lose both her parents at the age of sixteen!"

"No, and no one deserves it at the age of twenty, either," said Danger, standing up and coming around the table. "Or twenty-five, or fifty. No one ever deserves to lose people they love, but it happens to everyone." Vaguely, Emmeline heard the sounds of china clattering behind her. "Sometimes you have warning, but sometimes it just jumps out and ambushes you, and everything you cared for is gone."

Was she imagining the catch in Danger's voice, Emmeline wondered, or was it real?

"But when it does, there's two things you can do. You can sit in the middle of what used to be your world and cry. Or you can get up and start building it again. I'm not against crying – I've done my fair share, and I'm sure I'll do more – but there's only so long you can do it before it starts getting old. And crying doesn't put food on the table, nor clothes on your back, and it only helps things get better to a certain extent. After that, you have to start working again."

Emmeline looked up as something landed on the table beside her. It was a tea tray, loaded with a gently steaming pot, cups and saucers, the sugar bowl and milk pitcher, and a plate of biscuits.

"Of course, a cup of tea never hurts, either," said Danger, taking a seat beside her. "Would you like one?"

"Yes, please." Emmeline couldn't help but smile. "You're very... capable."

"I have an advantage," said Danger, pouring the tea. "Detachment. These aren't my people we're talking about. When bad things happen to my family, or to me, I'm not nearly so philosophical about it." She grinned. "I tend to swear a lot. Sugar?"

"Yes, please." Emmeline accepted her teacup and the sugar bowl. "Who are your people, then?"

"That's a bit of a long story, and not really what I'm here for. But you mentioned Hermione. I do have an interest in her. In making sure she's taken care of. I know finances won't be a problem for her, and she's of age in September, so she doesn't have to worry about custody. But she's going to need someone to look out for her. Someone to ask questions of. A mother figure, I guess you'd say." Danger blew on her tea. "I was hoping you could do that."

Emmeline looked a little askance at her guest. "You're not a ghost, are you? Mrs. Granger, or someone like that? Not that I'd really mind, but I'd just like to know."

"The last time I checked, I'm still alive," said Danger cheerfully. "Life's a little precarious, but isn't it that way for everyone? But enough about me. I'm afraid I eavesdropped just enough to figure out what you were crying about when I got here. You're upset because Remus kissed Naomi, then lied about it to you?"

Emmeline nodded, by the odd logic of dreams not at all upset that this total stranger knew exactly what was wrong. "Why would he do something like that?"

"Because he was afraid that you would react exactly the way you are reacting?" suggested Danger. "Men hate emotional scenes; they try to put them off as long as possible, but the silly clunches don't realize that only makes it worse. Trust me, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you."

"But he lied..."

"Because there is no good way to say, 'Oh, by the way, I just kissed my Death Eater ex-fiancée, but it really didn't mean anything and I don't care about her at all,' especially not at midnight and only about a minute after it happened."

_Damn it, she's making sense. I don't want her to, I want to stay mad at Remus, but she's making sense. _

"And let me tell you something he never will. She set him up. She told him a load of emotionally charged stuff, stuff out of their past. She guilt-tripped him, making him think that he should have seen she was going Dark. And then she moved right up next to him and asked him for one last kiss."

Emmeline slammed her teacup down on the table, nearly cracking it. "That little _bitch!_"

"Now you're getting it," said Danger, setting her own cup down. "If it had been daylight out, if he hadn't been worried about Sirius, if she hadn't told him all of that, if any one of a thousand little things had been different, it never would have happened."

Emmeline nodded grimly. "When I wake up, I am going to find her. I am going to tie her to a hippogriff and have it drag her around the country a few dozen times. After that, I'm going to let rabid bowtruckles nibble on her for a while, and then I think I'll drown her in flobberworm mucus."

Danger cracked up. "I see why Remus likes you," she said through her giggles. "You're smart, you're pretty, you have a wonderful sense of humor, and you know your magical creatures."

Emmeline smiled. "Thank you." Something occurred to her. "What is Remus to you? You seem to know him pretty well..."

Danger stopped laughing abruptly. "That's... a hard question to answer truthfully," she said. "I care about him a lot. I want only the best for him. And in this... place, that's you." Her smile was suddenly back. "So if you wouldn't mind getting over this rather small and insignificant event, which has much less to do with him than it does with her, and accept the apology I am sure he'll be offering you as soon as he sees you next, I would be ever so grateful."

"Are you telling me to get my head out of my arse?"

"Yes."

Emmeline laughed. "I don't think anyone's ever told me that quite so politely."

"I learned from the best. Haven't you ever noticed how slyly Remus can put things so that you're never quite sure if he's making fun or not?"

"Oh, yes. And even with as long as they've spent living in the same house, Sirius still doesn't always get it."

"And believe me, he never will," said Danger, grinning. "No matter how long they spend together, Remus will still be able to zing him." Her eyes became tender. "And no matter how long you and Remus spend together, it will only get better. He's a very romantic man, in a quiet way. He'll bring you flowers for no reason, or your favorite kind of chocolate, or just surprise you with a kiss when you need one the most. Some people talk about love wearing out, but when you love Remus Lupin, your love wears in. He'll find new ways to love you every day."

Emmeline narrowed her eyes. "And how exactly do you know that?"

Danger blushed and flipped her hair over her face for a moment, apparently finger-combing a tangle out of it.

"Oh, no, you don't. Come out of there."

The curtain of wavy brown parted, revealing wary-looking brown eyes. "Yes?"

"What, exactly, is your relationship to Remus Lupin?"

"Damn it, this is exactly where I didn't want to be," muttered Danger to herself. She looked at Emmeline hopefully. "Are you sure you want to know? I promise I'm no threat to you, I won't show up one day and try to steal him away from you – though I doubt he'd let himself be stolen, if he'd given his heart to you. And he has, I can see that."

"But it's obvious you know him. And from the way you're talking, you love him, and he loves you, and has for a long time. I just want to understand what's going on here."

Danger sighed. "All right. You asked for it, remember."

She stood up, shook her hair back from her face, and motioned for Emmeline to rise as well. Then she uttered a trilling whistle.

Emmeline jumped as her kitchen disappeared, to be replaced by the study at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, where they kept the maps and documents needed by the Order of the Phoenix. There was only one other person in the room.

"Remus!"

"He can't see us," said Danger, her voice slightly strained. "This is a memory. My memory. It's the best way I know to explain."

There was no time to say more, as the door burst open and a pair of figures shot through, one in hot pursuit of the other. Harry was the pursuer, Emmeline realized as he launched himself through the air – but who was the pursued? Not Ron, certainly. That pale blond hair had never graced a Weasley head...

"Gentlemen," said Remus, rolling up the scroll he'd been reading. "That's enough."

The wrestling boys on the floor ignored him entirely.

Remus got to his feet, walked over to them, and in a leisurely fashion leaned down and obtained two handfuls of collar, hauling the combatants apart. "You can't fight in here," he said, with the air of someone repeating something for the umpteenth time. "This is the War Room. Now, what's going on?"

"Draco stole my homework," said Harry thickly through a bloody nose.

"Lean your head back and pinch it," advised Remus, letting him go. "Draco?"

"I was just borrowing it," said the silver-blond boy, rubbing a place on his arm and wincing.

"Oh, right, borrowing it," grumbled Harry. "And that's why you were turning all the ink invisible."

"It was on a timer! It would have turned visible again before holidays were over!"

"Is that Draco Malfoy?" asked Emmeline, staring in fascination.

"Yes. And no. Listen." Danger was leaning closer, her eyes flicking from one face to another.

"Fight somewhere else, you two," said Remus, drawing his wand. "Harry, come here. _Episkey_."

"Thanks," said Harry as his nose stopped bleeding. "You swear my homework's not really gone?" he asked Draco.

"Swear on my magic," said Draco, lifting his right hand. "I brewed the potion myself. Everything'll show up again two days before hols are over."

"If you're lying, I'll use that handwriting-transformation spell Sirius taught us over the summer and turn in yours instead."

"Which would make your Potions scores go up, but your Transfiguration scores go down."

"Come on, with Snape teaching Potions, you really think anything's going to make my scores go up?"

"Well, maybe if you got Hermione to write your essay for you..."

"But then he'd nail me for plagiarism. No thanks."

Remus chuckled quietly to himself as the boys left the room, arguing companionably over whether Snape would downgrade a really excellent essay that Harry himself had written.

"They're friends," said Emmeline in shock.

"No, they're brothers," corrected Danger. "Look, here I come."

"Brothers?" Emmeline would have stared at her, but the scene in the room drew her attention. It wasn't every day she got to watch the man she loved kiss another woman with both the ease of long practice and the heat of real passion.

_Great Merlin. How can I compete with that?_

Remus broke the embrace first, signaling a need for air. He smiled down at Danger with the look in his eyes Emmeline loved, the one which said the person he was looking at was all he was currently interested in, and he wouldn't be seeing anything else any time soon. "And I was just starting to wonder again why I married you," he said.

"Married?" repeated Emmeline, wondering how much more of this her knees would take. "You're married?"

"You've been saying that for fourteen years," said the Danger in the scene, leaning back against his arms with perfect assurance. "Don't you think you could have come up with a new line by now?"

Emmeline was vaguely aware that the woman beside her had moved quickly to provide her with the chair she was now sitting on, that otherwise she would have ended up on the floor, and that she really ought to thank the other woman, but her mind was busy dealing with one concept.

_Fourteen years._

"Well, would you rather have a new line or another kiss?"

"Do I have to answer that?"

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway of the room.

"Go away," said Danger without turning around. "We're busy."

"I think I'll shut the door, then," said Hermione, making to suit action to word.

"No, we're not busy," said Remus, disengaging himself from Danger. She gave him a mournful look, but he winked at her, and she smiled and nodded, as if they'd held a silent conversation. "What do you need, Kitten?"

"It's not urgent, but I was just hoping you could look over my essay for Defense. I'm trying to make my points but still keep it respectful."

"Why bother?" asked Danger. "I know, I know, it goes against your nature to be really disrespectful to a teacher, but honestly..."

"Well, I have to do something or I'll scream," said Hermione as the adults left the room with her. "After what happened just before holidays..."

The room dissolved around them. They were back in Emmeline's kitchen.

Emmeline shook her head. "None of that is possible," she said with certainty. "Harry and Draco Malfoy hate each other. Remus would have told me if he'd ever been married. And I know for a fact he's never called anyone Kitten in his life, and certainly not Hermione Granger."

Danger nodded. "All of that is true," she said. "But what I showed you was also true. In another world."

"Another world? You mean like a parallel universe?"

"Yes. Exactly like a parallel universe. And my family would have been just as happy to let our two universes, yours and mine, go on being parallel. But we were somebody's problem. And that somebody decided to bend our universe enough that it touched yours, then shove us through the barrier between them and leave us here to die. I can't say who did it for certain, but I have my guess."

Emmeline nodded. "I assume you consider Harry part of your family?"

"You assume correctly."

"Then I also have a guess."

"I thought you would."

"Why do you say you were left here to die? Did something in the crossing of the barrier affect you badly?"

Danger gave a brittle laugh. "You might say that."

A few words sufficed to describe the family's fate. Emmeline needed to sit down again. To have that happen to yourself would be a horror – but to watch it happen to your love, to your friends, to your _children_...

Just as she finished, Danger's head snapped up. "Oh, dragon dung – I have to go. Someone needs me. Look, please don't tell anyone about this – they'll think you're mental. Just... just make up with Remus, please, and take care of Hermione, and you'll have my thanks, for all that's worth..."

"Where can I find you?" asked Emmeline. _I might be able to help her. I might be able to help all of them. But I can't do it long distance._ "In real life, in my world. Where are you?"

Danger shook her head. "You don't want to find me, trust me. It'll just make trouble."

"Tell me where to find you," insisted Emmeline. "Please." She had an idea. "I'll make up with Remus right away if you do."

Danger gave a short laugh. "You've only known me half an hour and you can already push my buttons. All right. I'm at Hogwarts, in the Forest. Ask Hagrid where you can find wolves. I'm with them."

And before Emmeline could say anything more, she was awake, in her kitchen, blinking sleepily at the clock.

_Not quite ten forty-five. Remus never goes to bed before eleven. He'll still be up._

She got up and hurried to the bathroom to wash her face with cold water. Apparating while sleepy was an invitation to get splinched, and if there was ever a time she didn't want to deal with both the pain of the splinching itself and the Ministry red tape afterwards, this was it.

_She may never know this, but her story was just as much incentive for me to do this as her asking me to. If something like that could happen to her, it could happen to us. Or if not that, something else. This is a war. And I don't want Remus to die thinking I wouldn't forgive him. _

_Not to mention, I'd rather not die myself without doing at least a few unmentionable things with him. _

Once she was well awake, she stood in the center of her kitchen, thought hard about Number Twelve, and turned on the spot, disappearing with a small pop.

* * *

Draco Malfoy paced around his room, avoiding at all costs meeting his own eyes in the mirror which hung on one wall. He wasn't at all sure that he wouldn't see someone else looking back at him.

Pacing wasn't doing much for his temper and his nerves, but he had no other way to get rid of them. He would have thrown something, but everything movable had been magically fastened down, and he would have screamed, but his throat was still raw from all the shouting he'd done a few days before.

_Why is this happening to me? And why _now?

_I had it all. I had my father again. I'd gotten over that stupid thing about being suspended. And I was going to be initiated in just a couple of days..._

**Now you're getting somewhere. **

Draco froze, just about to take another step. _You're back?_

**I never left. **

Draco's throat closed. He had so, so hoped that the madness – the other voice in his head, which sounded like his own, but said things he would never say – had been temporary and was gone for good, but no, it was back, and he was going to stay locked in this room with Safety Charms on everything forever...

_Why are you doing this to me?_ he demanded of the other voice.

**Like I said, you're closer than you know. That whole 'initiation' bit. **

_Are you telling me I went mad because I was about to become a Death Eater?_

**Not exactly. Look, this is complicated. Are you allowed to have Sleeping Potions?**

_I think so. Why?_

**Because I have an idea of how we can do this a little more politely. If I can pull it off. If not, the worst thing that happens is you get a nap. All right?**

Draco growled under his breath, but summoned Dobby and ordered a Sleeping Potion. The house-elf brought it, leaving it on the table, staying well out of Draco's reach at all times. _What does he think I'm going to do? Murder him?_

**No comment. Have a drink.**

Draco lifted the flask ironically. _Here's to you, voice in my head._

**I have a name, you know.**

_No, I didn't know. And I don't care._ Draco downed the potion in two long gulps, then hurled the flask into the corner, shattering it.

**That's odd. **

_What? If you throw something hard enough, it breaks._

**But I would have thought they'd charm anything you might touch Unbreakable. So you couldn't get your hands on broken glass and hurt yourself. And no, that was not a suggestion.**

_Good luck taking it back. _Draco considered going after the glass right away, but decided against it. It would still be there when he woke up, and the potion was going to take effect any minute now.

He lay down on his bed, closed his eyes for a moment or two, then opened them again with a groan. "Damn thing's not working," he said aloud.

"Are you sure?"

Draco sat bolt upright. That voice had _not_ been inside his head.

"Greetings, O high exalted heir of the house of Malfoy," said the boy sitting at the table.

Draco stared. Except for a few details such as a shorter haircut and a vertical scar across one cheekbone, the other boy could have been his twin. "Who the hell are you?"

"Name's Draco Black. Pleased to meet you, I suppose. Though I have to say, you're not the easiest person to get along with."

"Get along with... _what_ is going on here?"

"The potion worked. You're dreaming. I wasn't sure I could do this, but I've learned a few tricks from... a lady I know. I thought we could have a better conversation face-to-face than just you yelling at the voice in your head which ruined your life. Which I didn't, you know."

Draco couldn't decide which part of this statement to respond to first. "You have so," he retorted finally. "Ruined my life. They're never going to let me out of here. And they'll sure as hell never let me become a Death Eater now."

"And this means your life is ruined?" Black snorted. "Please. I just saved your sorry arse."

"Saved it? I _wanted_ to be a Death Eater!"

"I doubt it. You thought you did, but I don't think you'd care for it much. Or didn't you catch what they wanted you to do for your first assignment?"

"Yeah, I caught it. And I could do it, too. I'm the only one who could – I have the perfect excuse to be close to him. All I need to do is get him alone for a little while..."

"And you really think you could do it? You could honestly hold your wand and look at his face and say those words, and mean it?"

"Yes!"

Black looked him up and down, as if he had all night to do it. "And you believe it, too," he said finally, shaking his head. "God, I'm so glad I got out when I did."

"Got out of what?"

"The trap you're caught in. You've spent your entire life trying to be somebody who doesn't exist. The perfect son that your parents want. You've never thought about what _you_ want. Oh, sure, you think plenty about what you want in the short term, what would make you happy to have today or tomorrow or next week, but do you ever think beyond that? Have you ever really thought through what a life of serving Lord Voldemort would be like?"

"Don't say his name!"

"Why not? I'm not scared of it, even if you are."

_Great. Not only do I have a voice in my head, but it's suicidal._

"Have you ever killed anything?" asked Black, leaning back in his chair. "With your own hands, or your own wand?"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't. But I'm trying to make a point. Have you?"

"No. What does that matter? I'm willing to."

"That's wonderful. You're willing." Black rolled his eyes. "You're willing to do something you've never done before, never seen done – you've never even been close to a dead body, have you?"

"That's disgusting. No."

"You say a body's disgusting, but you're willing to turn a living human being into one? Something wrong with that."

"I wouldn't have to look at it. I wouldn't have to get near it. I'd just do it and go away. Someone else could clean it up."

"Bull. What if you were in a battle? People would be dying all around you. How could you deal with that?" Black's eyes were fixed on Draco's own, almost hypnotic in their grey intensity. "And not just dying. People don't always die when they're hit with spells. Sometimes they get wounded. So you'd be dealing with blood. Blood and piss and vomit. It might even be your blood, your piss, your vomit. And your pain. You don't like pain, do you?"

Draco tried to keep his swallow inconspicuous. Just Black's litany was making him feel ill. "Why do you care?"

"Because believe it or not, I'm trying to help you. Trying to keep you from making a really stupid decision."

"So what do you think I should do, if you're so smart?"

"Why not join the other team?"

"Oh, and fight with the almighty saintly warriors of the light? What would I get out of that?"

"For one thing, you wouldn't get hit with a Cruciatus for an honest mistake. Voldemort–"

"Stop saying his name!"

"No. Voldemort likes to do that. Hurt people because they failed, or because they annoyed him, or just because they're there. The light side generally doesn't do stuff like that."

"And you think I wouldn't get hurt if I fought for the light side? I wouldn't have to see blood and pain and all that stuff you said?"

"No, you'd still see it. But you'd know it would stay on the battlefield. No one from your own side would be trying to do that to you when all you wanted was some rest and a meal. And no one would expect you to think it was fun. War's not fun, and it's not glorious. It's hard, disgusting work that no one in his right mind would want more of."

"And you're such an expert."

"More than you." Black's face curled into an expression of contempt. "You pampered little sissy. You've never had to fight for anything, have you? It all comes easy to you. Your mummy can buy you anything you want with your daddy's money, and the hardest thing you have to do is watch Harry Potter be a hero. Boo hoo. My heart breaks for you."

"Yeah, and what have you done that's so great?"

"Nothing you'd understand." Black turned away.

"Hey, that's not fair! I want to know!"

"I'm sure you do. And I want to go home. But there are always some things you want that you can't have." Black's voice had gotten so low it was hard to hear.

"What do you mean, you want to go home? You are home, aren't you? You're part of me. I'm stuck with you."

"Part of you?" Black turned around, looking honestly amazed. "Hell, no! I wouldn't be part of you if you paid me. I'm sick of you already. But we are stuck with each other, unless I can find some way to go back."

"Go back where?"

"To my world. My home. My own family, my own friends..." Black dropped his head in his hands.

"You have your own world?"

Black looked up. "Is this so hard to comprehend? I'm obviously not you. And no, I'm not some fragment of your personality, Mr. It's-All-About-Me. I'm my own person, and I used to have my own body, but it got destroyed when my family was shoved through to your world."

A wild hope rushed into Draco's mind. "Is there... could there be... do you know a way to send you back?"

"Don't I wish. But even if I did find a way home, my body's gone. My soul wouldn't have anywhere to go. I'd either become a ghost, or I'd die." Black looked back down at the table. "My sister died that way," he said very quietly. "My little sister. She was only just thirteen, and she doesn't exist here. So when her body disappeared, she died."

"You have a little sister?"

"I had a little sister. Her name was Meghan."

Draco felt a surge of emotion trying to rise in him – was it pity? He wasn't sure. It wasn't something he was used to feeling. He carefully converted it to anger – this idiot had ruined his life, no matter what he said.

"So your little sister died," he sneered. "How lovely. Why don't you die, too? Then you could be with her again."

"Believe me, I wish I could," said Black low in his throat.

"Well, why don't you?" Draco felt much more in control of the situation now. He would show this intruder, this interloper from another world, who was in charge here. "I'm only going to say this once. Get out of my head, and go to hell."

Black turned slowly and fixed his eyes on Draco again. "Go to hell?" he repeated quietly. "You want me to go to hell? Let's see here. My little sister, and both the women I think of as my mothers, are dead. I watched them die. I watched a wind blow them apart like they were made of dust."

Draco swallowed again, his mouth suddenly dry.

"The men I call my fathers, whose good opinion I value over anything, think the person wearing this face is a Dark-loving piece of crap without enough courage, brains, or loyalty to get sorted anywhere but Slytherin. My brother and my twin sister think the same. And you know what? They're right. So I'll never see them again either."

_Brother? Twin sister? What's he talking about?_

"I'm totally cut off from everyone and everything I care about, and I will be for the rest of my life. So don't tell me to go to hell, _Malfoy_." Draco had never, not even from Potter or Weasley, heard more venom injected into his name. "I'm already there."

Draco didn't know what to say. Fortunately, he didn't have to say anything, as someone else spoke next.

"If you're quite finished being melodramatic..." she said.

* * *

(A/N: No prizes for guessing who, now.

I disclaim the line about not fighting in the War Room. It comes from a movie I have never seen, entitled _Dr. Strangelove_, but it's such a funny line that I had to put it in.

Feed the author – review! And tell me what you want to see – it's the only way I know! I might even actually, for a change, do what you ask me to!)


	3. Three

(A/N: We're still in Chapter Twenty-Four of _Consequences_ – pitiful, isn't it? But we'll be moving along after this.)

* * *

"_Neenie!_" 

Black knocked his chair over sprinting to the girl standing by the door and snatched her into a hug. She was crying, Draco noticed over Black's shoulder – no, they were both crying, he corrected himself as Black turned around. He'd lifted her off the ground and was turning slowly in place, holding her in his arms and laughing and crying at the same time.

_This is disgusting. And demeaning. A Malfoy in tears over a Mudblood... she has to be his girlfriend, there's no other reason he'd be this damned happy to see her..._

Black set Granger on her feet and brought his right hand up to his face, stroking two fingers down his jaw line. She did the same on her own face, then reached out and ran her fingers along the line of Black's scar. His fingers traced down her cheek at the same time, and when he took his hand away, Draco saw with some surprise that she had a similar scar – vertical, about two inches long, under her left eye.

_Wonder where they came from._

"Now," she said briskly when their little ritual was finished, "a lesson in nomenclature. Just because Hermione Granger thinks Draco Malfoy is a wart, does not mean Hermione Granger-Lupin thinks the same of Draco Black. Are we quite clear on this?"

"But I thought you'd be... mixed in with Hermione Granger," said Black as they seated themselves at the table. "I felt it trying to happen to me, but we're too different. It didn't take right."

Granger – or was it Granger-Lupin? – sighed. "She's grieving," she said. "Her parents were killed recently." She shot a venomous look at Draco. "I've never lost anyone that close to me, at least not to remember it. So we're different enough right now that I can keep myself together, apart from her. But if we stay here much longer, and she recovers, I may not be able to."

"Do you know anything about anyone else?"

"Yes. First off, no one is dead."

Black looked confused, and absurdly hopeful, at the same time. It would have been hilarious, if Draco hadn't been able to identify the expression with the one he'd worn when his father had told him he could be initiated into the Death Eaters a year early if he wanted. "That's great, it's wonderful – but how did it happen?"

Granger-Lupin smiled. "Animagus forms. Danger was able to throw herself and Meghan and Letha into animal bodies, the same as their forms. They're at Hogwarts, in the Forest. And the others went to their counterparts, like we did."

"But they're so much more alike." Black chewed on his lip. "Won't they be mixed in?"

"Assimilated," corrected Granger-Lupin. "And yes, they might be. But Danger thinks she can reverse it, if it hasn't gone too far already. We talked last night," she said, forestalling the question Black was about to ask. "She's still recovering from saving the three of them, and she can't risk something as magically draining as bringing Padfoot or Moony back – if she made a mistake, it could backlash and kill her. But she can do a little dream-traveling now, and she thinks she'll be able to try it within the next couple of days."

Black scowled. "It's not going to do any good, though," he said darkly. "Not if we can't get home. We don't belong here, Neenie. We're messing things up. And people are going to be worried about us at home – Luna, and the Weasleys, and Professor Dumbledore, and everyone else..." He slammed his fist down on the table, making Draco jump. "This is such a mess!"

"What do you expect from Voldemort? He wasn't going to send us on a sunshiny picnic. And would you rather Luna be worried about you at home, or that she be stuck here with us?"

"You have a point. But I'd rather she not be worried at all."

"Luna hardly ever worries. And we'll find a way back, Fox. You know we will. If it's there to find, we'll find it."

"That's what has me worried. The 'if' part."

_That's what has me worried too._ Draco lay down on his bed, facing the wall, and tuned out their conversation. _What if I'm stuck with him in my head forever? Will I have to watch him kiss her, or do other stuff, if she can visit him in his dreams – in my dreams? _

_And why were they talking about Loony Lovegood?_

"Hey, Malfoy."

Draco looked up. Black was standing beside him. "I'm really sorry about this, I should have thought of it earlier. Here."

Draco sat up, accepted the little glowing ball, and looked at it dubiously. "What is it?"

"It's a dream. Any dream you want. No reason you should have to hang around here and listen to twin-talk. I've been told we're very obnoxious."

"Twin-talk?" Suddenly several things fell into place. "You mean – she's that twin sister you were talking about?"

"Hey, you are smart! I'd give you a prize, except you've already got one. Just think hard about what you want to dream, and smash it on your forehead like a soda can."

"Like a what?"

"Never mind. Like this." Black pantomimed crushing something into his head near his hairline.

"Now you know why he's so weird," said Granger-Lupin from the table. "Sixteen years of hitting himself on the head."

"But it feels so good when I stop."

Draco had been about to ask how in the name of Merlin they could be twins, but decided in the interest of sanity that getting away from them was a higher priority at the moment.

He stared at the tiny ball of light. _I want to dream of everything being normal again,_ he thought at first, but then changed his mind. Why settle for half measures? He deserved a little happiness for what he'd gone through these past few days.

_I want to be a Death Eater, _he told the glowing dream sphere._ I want to please the Dark Lord. I want to crush my enemies and bring them down. And I want it all now. _

He pressed the globe into his forehead, and everything blurred around him, then cleared again.

He was down on one knee, and his left forearm throbbed with pain. Blinking back tears, he looked at it, and felt hot glee flood his veins. He bore the Dark Mark, the brand of his master for all to see. No one could make him join the weaklings of the light side now. He would fight with all his soul for darkness, and for his own pleasures.

"Your first assignment, Draco," he heard the Dark Lord say above him, and looked up. The Darkest wizard in a hundred years lounged on a throne-like chair, wand in one long-fingered hand, drawing lazy patterns of green smoke in the air. "Your first assignment is one of tremendous importance. I have chosen you, from all the young and promising of my followers, as the most likely to carry it out successfully. Will you?"

"Command me, my lord," said Draco, bowing his head.

He heard the Dark Lord's laugh. "Very good, Lucius. Very good indeed. I am quite pleased. Your first assignment, Draco, is to bring me one of Harry Potter's friends. Who it is matters not, only that it be someone he cares about enough that he would try to rescue this person himself. What you do with your hostage is also your business. I trust you have been trained in the proper use of... certain spells."

"Yes, my lord." Draco's glee remultiplied. Revenge for years of petty insults and humiliations would soon be his. He would make Potter sorry for everything he and his stupid "family" had ever done to the noble house of Malfoy, starting with making his father a fugitive way back when Draco had been only six...

* * *

"Where do you think he went?" asked Hermione, looking at the place where Malfoy had been a moment before. 

"Who cares?" Draco hadn't known his heart could be so light. His Pack was alive. Stranded in a strange world, yes, but alive. And his twin, who knew him better than anyone except Luna, was here with him again. "Let's go somewhere else. I'm sick of this room."

"I can imagine. How long have you been in here?"

"Too long. You figured out what happened when he 'went insane'?"

"It wasn't hard, since I knew you had to be in his head. But wasn't it hard to take him over like that? It is his body."

Draco snorted. "Hard? No. He's a bully, Neenie. He's not used to people fighting back. He's used to throwing a few insults and running away, or cowing people with his name and his so-called wit. He's smart, but he's not a prankster. And no one's ever taught him to really use his mind. Not like we were taught, with all the extra stuff we've done with the Pack."

He willed the room different, and it shifted around them, four walls reconfiguring to eight, the furniture changing size and color, until they sat side by side on the bed in the blue bedroom of the Hogwarts Den.

Hermione laughed. "No one had to teach us how to play pranks. We just learned it. But you're saying he never did war games, or studied to be an Animagus, or learned Occlumency."

"Exactly. Though he was about to start Occlumency lessons with his dear Auntie Bella." Hermione made a gagging noise. Draco nodded. "If I'm any measure, he would have been good at it once he'd learned, but he hasn't had any training yet, so even with less than a year's worth, I was able to shunt him aside long enough to yell a lot of stuff that was calculated to make them think he'd gone totally mad..."

"It wasn't all calculated, was it?" she asked quietly, laying a hand on his arm.

_Should have known she'd know. She always does._ "No. It wasn't. The beginning of it was me just yelling for the Pack, because I was scared to death. I didn't understand what was going on, or why I was back there, or where everyone was. It took me a while to figure it out. And when I did..." His hand sought hers and found it. "I was scared even worse. Because I thought I would never see you again."

"I know." Hermione pressed her other hand against her breastbone, where Draco was sure, in this dream world, her pendants still hung, as they did not in the real world. "Draco?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you think they really miss us at home?"

"They have to. You know we're important, Neenie. Harry Potter and his family don't just disappear with no one noticing."

"No, I mean... the Pride. The rest of the Pride. Do you think they miss us?"

About to laugh at her for being stupid, Draco noticed the quaver in her voice. "I think so," he said carefully. "Are you thinking of anyone in particular?"

"No, of course not," said Hermione automatically.

"Liar."

She sniffled. "Yeah. You're right. I just... oh, mouse guts!" She jumped up, pulling her hand free of Draco's, and swiped the candlestick off the bedside table, sending it rolling across the floor. "I hate this! I hate it! I bloody hate it!"

"What do you hate?"

"I hate watching her do what I want to! And now I'll never get a chance!" The small items sitting on the dresser followed the candlestick to the floor.

"Hate watching who do what?"

"Her! The other me, the other Hermione! She's getting what I want!"

"What's that?"

"Ooooohhh–" Hermione groaned in frustration. "Do I have to tell you everything?"

Draco concentrated briefly and changed his appearance, then cocked his head to one side questioningly.

Hermione burst into laughter. "Don't _do _that!"

"Why not?"

"Because! Just don't. It's... you look terrible with red hair. And the freckles are too big. They make you look like you have dragon pox."

"But am I right?" Draco turned his hair back to silvery blond and erased the spots he'd sprinkled across his face.

"Of course. You know that."

"No, I didn't know that. Despite popular opinion, I can't read your mind."

"Not when I'm over here, you can't."

"And you will get a chance to do what you want to." _As much as Harry and I might not care for it... or Remus and Sirius, for that matter... but ride that broomstick when we come to it._ "We all will. We're going home, Hermione. You have to keep believing that."

"Why?"

"Remember what Professor Dumbledore told us last year, during the third task?"

"Oh." Hermione nodded. "Yes. I do remember."

_He said, "If we lose hope, we lose everything, and Voldemort has already won."_

_And I'm not about to let that happen. Not at home, and not here. _

_We _will_ go home again. _

* * *

Sirius awoke early the next morning, troubled by a vague recollection of another dream starring the mysterious dark woman. This time, though, instead of being the vamp she'd been in his first dreams of her, she was almost all business, with just a hint of tease lurking deep in her brown eyes. They'd been working on something together in the basement of Number Twelve, paperwork of some sort, and talking as they did, just idle chitchat, nothing important. 

There'd been a child in the dream as well, a girl, obviously some relation to the woman, probably her daughter. As Harry had said, she looked to be about twelve, but she was already... _blossoming_ was the word that came to Sirius' mind, now that he'd seen her for himself. She'd been curled up in a chair near the fire, petting Hermione's Crookshanks and reading a book, and listening with half an ear to the conversation, more likely than not.

The dream had given him a strange feeling of peace, something he hadn't felt for he didn't know how long, which meant it had obviously been too long. He had been aware of the war in the dream, as he was every moment of his life, waking or sleeping, but it had been more of a distant concern to his dream self. It was as if he had chosen to put it aside for a while, to spend some time with his...

_My what?_

_That's a good question. What are they to me? _

_And why am I suddenly dreaming of them every night, when I've never seen or heard of them before?_

The questions were unanswerable. He shoved them to the back of his mind and went downstairs to find some breakfast.

The oddity of Emmeline sitting so close to Remus she might as well be on his lap didn't strike him until his second plate of bacon and eggs. "Thought you two were on the outs," he mumbled.

"Swallow, Padfoot," recommended Remus, grinning. "We're not on the see-food diet here."

Sirius swallowed as commanded. "You're in a good mood," he said. "What happened?"

Remus and Emmeline both laughed. "Come on, Sirius, I knew you were thick, but I didn't think you were that thick," teased Emmeline. "You know what happens at night... a witch, a wizard, a bed..."

"That's not what I meant."

"We made up," said Remus. "My enormous and glaring blunder has been forgiven, and I have sworn upon my sacred honor that I shall never stray again."

"You'd better not," said Emmeline, glaring at him. "Or I'll feed you to that grindylow of yours."

Sirius shook his head. "Moony, you need to work on this thing you have about violent women. It's really not good for you."

He couldn't figure out why they both laughed.

* * *

After breakfast, Harry caught Ginny's eye and jerked his head off to one side. She nodded and got up, following him out. 

"What's wrong?" he asked once they were safely ensconced in a small room on the ground floor.

"Nothing."

Harry shook his head. "Uh-uh. You keep staring at me, and you hardly ate anything at breakfast. The last time you acted this way, you were possessed by Voldemort."

Ginny laughed. "It's not that."

"Good. What is it?"

She sighed. "I just had a bad dream. I was running around Hogwarts, looking for you. I was always convinced that you were in the next room, or around the next corner, or up the next flight of stairs. And then I ran into Ron. He was standing still in the middle of a hall, and he looked at me and said, 'They're gone, and they're not coming back.'"

"Who?"

"That's what I asked. And he said, 'Who do you think? Harry and Hermione.' And then he started crying." Ginny looked at Harry in confusion. "I've never seen Ron cry. Except once. It scared me so much I backed up. But I forgot I'd just come up a flight of stairs. I fell down them backwards, but I woke up just before I hit the bottom."

Harry nodded. His mind was on something else. "When did you see Ron cry?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"If I knew, would I be asking?"

"Now you sound like Hermione."

"No need to be insulting, Ginny."

"It was a compliment."

"Ouch. But I still want to know."

"I'm not sure I should tell you."

Harry drew his wand and locked the door. "Not letting you out until you do."

Ginny growled at him. "I'll put a hex on you."

"And I'll put one right back on you. Tell me."

"Fine. It was back last summer, when you got poisoned. When we all thought you were going to die. Happy now?"

Harry stared at her.

"That works better if you make sound come out of it," said Ginny, pointing at his open mouth.

"Ron cried over me?"

"There, see? Much better. Yes, he did."

"I never knew."

"I don't think it's the kind of thing boys go around telling each other."

"I think you're right."

"Boys don't tell each other a lot of things, I think," said Ginny musingly, tipping her head to one side to think. He'd never really noticed how pretty she looked when she did that, Harry thought. "I wonder why that is?"

Impulsively, Harry took two steps closer to her and leaned down slightly.

There was a long pause.

"In this case," he said when he'd caught his breath, "it's because he'd kill me if he found out."

"No, he wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"I wouldn't let him."

"You wouldn't?"

"Well, not if you'll do that again."

All in all, Harry thought, it was a good thing the door was already locked.

* * *

Hermione sat in the front room, running her hand mechanically over Crookshanks' fur, feeling his purr rumble through her. 

She had really liked to hear him purr, once. She had liked a lot of things. Reading, and sitting outside in the sun, and talking with Harry and Ron and Ginny... she had liked those things once upon a time.

**Do you not like them anymore?**

_I can't like them now. _

**Why not?**

Hermione sighed. _If I had to have a voice in my head, couldn't it be a smart voice?_

She allowed the images to play through her mind again. The owl wearing the seal, dropping down to the table in front of them. Harry handing her the letter, sympathy on his face mingled, horribly in her opinion, with relief. And then the ultimate blow – that it was not just one of them, but both, both at once...

_I'm alone now. I don't have anyone._

**Don't you still have Harry and Ron and Ginny?**

_Yes, but..._

**I know. They're not your parents. No one ever will be. But you're not alone.**

_Fine, but I don't have anyone I can ask questions of now. No one to tell me things, or help me. _

**Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would help you. They'd love to help you. So would Sirius and Remus. So would most of the Order. They hate seeing you so sad.**

_Aren't I allowed to be sad?_

**Of course you're allowed to be sad. But maybe it shouldn't take over your life, is all I'm saying. Your parents wouldn't want you to be sad all the time, would they?**

_I don't know._

But she did, and they wouldn't. They'd want her to enjoy life, the way they always had, even when it meant she spent more and more of her time away from them, in a world they could never enter, never even really understand.

_So what you're saying is maybe I should try a little bit to enjoy things, even though I'm still sad?_

**Maybe. It's worth a try.**

"Hermione?"

She looked up. "Hi, Ron."

"We're just getting a game of Exploding Snap together. We wondered if you maybe wanted to play."

"I think I do." She set Crookshanks on the sofa and stood up. "Are you all right?" she asked. "You look like you didn't sleep well."

Ron shrugged. "Just had a dream, about Hogwarts and Ginny and you and Harry. Nothing important."

"All right."

They left the room together, side by side.

* * *

Hagrid woke up late that morning. He was stiff and sore from his exertions of the night before. It would have been a lot worse, though, if it hadn't been for his mysterious helper. 

He wondered about that as he aimed his umbrella at the water in the large tin washtub and muttered the incantation to heat it up to bath temperature. Whoever it had been knew quite a bit about magic. It would take a lot of control to make fire appear in the air all around Grawp's head like that and startle him into letting Hagrid go without harming Grawp in the process.

"An' they didn' hurt him any," he muttered, starting to get undressed. "I'm grateful ter them, whoever they are." Fang was still in his basket, snoring. The little doe he'd found lying at the edge of the Forest the night before had retreated under his bed.

Now she was a puzzle, Hagrid thought. A pretty little thing, just losing the last of the spots that marked a fawn's coat, with a deer's usual great liquid eyes – but they were grey. He'd never seen a deer, buck or doe, with grey eyes before.

He tested the water and almost yelled. It was much too hot. He poured in some from the bucket he'd filled it with to cool it off and stirred it with his umbrella, still thinking about the doe. Someone might have been experimenting on her, perhaps, practicing Color-Changing Charms, and she'd run off before it could be reversed. She was also housetrained, another thing Hagrid hadn't been sure was possible. And she was as friendly as any dog, and accepted food from his hand without a quibble.

"Ar, it's none o' my business," he said aloud, lowering himself into the steaming water. "I just take care o' creatures, I don' go pryin' inter their lives."

After he was clean and dressed, he headed out back to feed Buckbeak, Fang and the doe – _she needs a name_ – playing a friendly game of chase around his feet. As he got closer, though, he saw the hippogriff wasn't alone. A sleek black winged horse stood beside him, regarding Hagrid calmly.

The doe shot between Hagrid's legs and galloped towards the paddock, clearing the wall in one leap. She butted her head against the horse's forelegs, then twined around them like a cat. The horse bent to sniff her, folding its wings around her.

"Friend o' yours?" Hagrid asked the doe, chuckling a little. The horse was a mare, he noticed as he sat on the paddock wall (he'd built it himself and knew it was up to his weight). "C'mere, beau'iful, I won' hurt yeh."

The mare walked sedately forward and blew into his face, a horse's courteous greeting. Hagrid returned it, then allowed her to sniff his hand while he tossed dead ferrets for Buckbeak to catch. Before the hippogriff had finished his meal, Hagrid was stroking the mare's mane and the feathers of her wings. The little doe nibbled at the leg of his breeches until he stroked her head as well.

It was odd, he thought when he got up to go to the castle for breakfast. He didn't seem to hurt as much as he had when he'd woken up that morning.

But that was what a good hot bath could do.

* * *

"My lord, I beg your indulgence," said Lucius Malfoy, kneeling before his master. "I fear I am not myself today." 

"Yes, the unfortunate malady of your son. I was quite shocked to hear of it, Lucius. I am sure no blame attaches to you, however. It was not your fault that you were forced to be away from him for so long."

Lucius breathed a silent sigh of relief. He was not going to be punished.

"I believe you would enjoy it if we struck at the one whose fault it is, would you not?"

"My lord?"

"Everything is prepared, Lucius. We are, perhaps, a little ahead of schedule, but that will not matter. It is time to deprive the Auror Office of its so-capable Head." Lord Voldemort laughed. "One way or another."

* * *

Remus knelt on the floor of the bedroom at Number Twelve and prepared himself for pain. 

_I should be used to this. I've been doing it for thirty-two years._

But the child he loved more than life itself had never been going to join him before. Harry, inspired by the stories of his father and Sirius, had followed in their footsteps and become an Animagus. His form was fitting for a Quidditch Seeker – a Golden Snidget, the tiny round bird which had originally been used for the role the Golden Snitch now played in the game.

_I should never have agreed to this. There's no way Harry can defend himself if something goes wrong. _

_But Sirius can handle me. That's been proved. And Harry can fly. He'll be fine. _

Still, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was missing. Something was not there which should have been there. It was an emptiness in the back of his mind, chill where there should have been warmth and silence where he expected laughter and chatter...

* * *

_You have no idea how much I wish I could give you what you're missing, my love. You have no idea how much this hurts me, to lie here without you and know you're hurting, and I'm not there to help. But you wouldn't know me if I came to you now. I'd confuse you and scare you, and you don't need to be confused and scared any more than you already are. _

_Tomorrow. We'll be together again tomorrow. At least, I hope we will. I hope you're not already too far gone for me to reach you. I'd do it tonight, but you have to be asleep, and I know you and Sirius, and Harry. Sleep is very low on your agenda for tonight. _

_So enjoy your company and your games, and know I love you, even though I can't tell you so until tomorrow. _

A soft, mournful howl echoed through the Forest as the full moon rose.

* * *

(A/N: So, things starting to come together a little more now? 

Clarification: The transfer between worlds will not take place in the main universe of the Danger world. However, everything that the characters talk about or refer to has or will. So, by the time Draco and Hermione are going on sixteen, they will have scars on their faces, they will think of each other as twins, etc. And yes, there is a pattern to who has dreams and who hears voices.

Coming soon: An attack on Sirius has an unforeseen consequence, and the Order of the Phoenix gains a new member. Lovers are reunited, freedom is gained, and one young man is very unhappy with his new form in Chapter Four of _Dangerous Truths_!

See you next time! Please don't forget to review!)


	4. Four

(A/N: Finally out of Chapter Twenty-Four! This brings us to the end of Twenty-Seven, actually.)

* * *

Sirius was the first one up at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, the next day. He brewed a pot of coffee, then hung it in midair with his wand, along with three mugs, milk, sugar, and spoons. After charming the whole string to follow him, he set off up the basement steps. 

Emmeline, in a peach-colored dressing gown, was standing in the front hall, yawning. When she saw him, her eyes widened, and she pressed a hand to her mouth so as not to laugh loudly enough to set off the portrait.

"What's so funny?" Sirius mumbled, starting to climb the second set of stairs.

"It's like ducklings," Emmeline got out around the hand. "Everything following you like that..."

Sirius shrugged. He was always a little groggy after full moon nights, as much as he enjoyed them.

_Not as young as I used to be..._

He pushed that thought firmly away. He was only thirty-six. That was young for a wizard.

_But you'll be thirty-seven in a few months, and thirty-eight the year after that, and then what? Huh? Then what?_

_I'll be thirty-nine. _

_See?_

Sirius rolled his eyes at the bizarreness of holding a conversation with himself and opened the door with his non-wand-holding hand. "I bring caffeine," he announced quietly, since the small, round, golden bird on the bed was still asleep. "And a visitor."

"A visitor? Sirius, I'm really not presentable..."

"You think I care?" Emmeline leaned on the doorframe and covered another yawn. "Can I have some of that?"

"If you insist," said Remus, waving her inside with a smile. "Oh, just so we don't have to explain later – would you mind shutting the door? – Harry's an illegal Animagus, that's him on the bed."

Emmeline looked at the Golden Snidget and giggled. "I bet he hates his form."

"Hates it?" asked Sirius, lowering everything into position on Remus' desk. "Why?"

"It's not exactly a very manly form. I mean, it's so little, and so round, and so cute..."

"And so fast," said Remus, accepting a mug from Sirius, and the sugar bowl a moment later. "And so maneuverable, and able to fly, and easy to overlook if he rolls in dust to darken those feathers a bit. It may not be manly, but it's an excellent escape route, should he ever need one."

"An escape route?" Emmeline widened her eyes in mock surprise. "But he's Harry Potter! The Boy Who Lived! His class voted him Most Likely to Die Before He Leaves School! Why would he ever need an escape route?"

The object of conversation awoke in confusion to the sound of very loud laughter. Remus was doubled up where he sat, having prudently set his coffee aside first. Sirius was pounding on the desk with his fist, making absurd noises. Emmeline bowed slightly to each of them, looking very pleased with herself.

Remus recovered first and noticed the small bird hovering in midair, looking at each of them in turn. "It's all right, Harry," he said, carefully swallowing another laugh. "You can change back."

Harry vanished behind the bed and emerged a moment later, tousle-haired and blinking sleepily. "What were you laughing about?" he asked.

Unfortunately, this just set everyone off again.

* * *

Sirius was still chuckling an hour later when he set off for work. _Most Likely to Die Before He Leaves School, indeed. Not if I have anything to do with it. _

_And I will._

"Morning, Hagrid," he said as he passed the half-giant in the hall. Then he stopped for a second look. "What happened to you?"

"Rough life," said Hagrid, shrugging a little. "Buckbeak's bin restless, even with his new friend."

"New friend?"

"Yeah. Wild winged horse, jus' flew in out'a nowhere the other day. Looks like she's fixin' ta stay a while. An' I foun' a little doe deer by the Forest a couple days back. Sweet little thing – tame's a kitten. Sleeps curled up with Fang an' everything."

Sirius grinned at this image. "I bet Fang loves that. I have to go, I'll be late. See you later, Hagrid."

"Cheers," said Hagrid, heading down the kitchen stairs.

Still chuckling at the image of Fang sharing his basket with a deer, Sirius Apparated to the Ministry and made his way to his office. "Morning, Dawlish," he said to his acting second-in-command. "What've we got today?"

* * *

Back at Number Twelve, the argument of the century was in progress. But it wasn't really an argument, Remus thought. It was too polite to be an argument. Call it a discussion. But that didn't have the right ring of two opposing points of view, and each side determined to make the other see reason... 

He frowned, confused. His thought had trailed off in a significant way, as if he were expecting another voice to come in and supply the word he was looking for. But that was ridiculous. No one could eavesdrop on his thoughts like that. Even a Legilimens had to be looking at you before he, or she, could get into your head.

_Debate._

He blinked. His mind, now busy with something else, had found him the solution to his original problem.

Shaking his head at the strange nature of thinking and thoughts, Remus turned back to the business at hand – persuading Albus Dumbledore that it would be better for everyone involved if the Weasleys were allowed to return to the Burrow and Sirius, Remus, and Harry to Remus' cottage in Kent.

"They're going stir-crazy in here," had been Sirius' contribution before he'd left. "They can't even go outside, for fear some Muggle'll notice people coming and going from nowhere, or some wizard'll spot them and identify them. Just because no one can find the house doesn't mean they couldn't stake out this entire section of London. Or blow it up, for that matter. They've already proved they like killing."

This, and the various arguments Molly Weasley and Remus mustered, eventually managed to sway Dumbledore, and he agreed to the moves, but not without stipulating very careful warding around each house, and as much security as could be managed. Something also had to be decided about Hermione. She couldn't stay at Headquarters by herself.

"She'll come with us, of course," said Molly decisively. "Not that you couldn't take care of her," she added to Remus, "but a teenage witch in a house with two grown wizards and one her own age, none of them related to her... people would talk. She can share Ginny's room, she's done it before."

"What if I went along?" said Emmeline. "Not with you, Molly. With Remus and Sirius. Do you think Hermione could come to the cottage then?" Her tone was ever so gently needling. It seemed to irk her that Molly had appointed herself guardian of Hermione's morals.

Remus stared at her. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked in an undertone as Molly thought this over.

"Do you have a problem with it?" Emmeline smiled at him.

"Not personally. But I wasn't sure you were ready for anything like this."

"Let's say, for the moment, that I'm doing it for Hermione's sake. We'll deal with what comes later, later. All right?"

Remus nodded, resigned. "Separate bedrooms, then?"

"What are you, nuts?"

He grinned at her. "That's what I was hoping you'd say."

"We'll have to ask Hermione what she wants to do," said Molly, emerging from her thoughtful trance. "But I see no reason that couldn't work."

Hermione, when asked, thanked Mrs. Weasley very kindly for her offer, but said she would rather go to the cottage, "if you're sure I won't be in the way," she said to Remus questioningly.

"Of course not," said Remus, pressing her hand a bit awkwardly. "You're always welcome."

"Thank you," Emmeline murmured to him as they left the room.

"For what?"

The question, which Remus had thought was simple, seemed to nonplus Emmeline a bit. She mumbled something incoherent about being kind. Remus left it alone. Confused women could be dangerous.

"Why aren't you working?" he asked as they found an empty room.

"It's an exotic new thing called a 'day off'. I thought you might not know about them, since Sirius never seems to take any."

Remus shrugged. "What can I say? He loves his work. I never see him happier than when he's elbow-deep in a case. I don't know what he'd do if he was ill, or injured, and couldn't work."

"Oh, he could always do paperwork," laughed Emmeline, snuggling close to Remus.

"Evil woman. You know he hates paperwork."

"Well, if it was a choice between paperwork and no work at all..."

"I still don't think he'd take the paperwork."

* * *

About halfway through the afternoon, Sirius looked up as a commotion erupted outside his office door. Tonks nearly fell in through it, saving herself at the last minute by grabbing the doorframe. "Someone in the Atrium," she panted out. "Started yelling and making a fuss, then drew his wand – we got him down before he could throw any curses, and the identity spells aren't working right..." 

Sirius was up and following her out the door before her last word was fully out of her mouth.

"Said his name was John Springer at first," said Dawlish in the Atrium. The wizard in question lay at their feet unconscious, long brown hair half-obscuring his face. "Then he yelled out that it wasn't either, that he was cursed, and started pounding on his head."

Sirius grunted. "Might be Imperius," he said. "Identity spells aren't working?"

"No, sir."

"Ideas on why?"

"He might have done something with his blood," volunteered a young Auror, one of the newest on the force. "Muggles give each other blood if they're ill. He might have done that to confuse the spell."

Sirius turned away for a moment to disguise the fact that half of him wanted to laugh and the other half wanted to find a loo right away. Why would you give a sick person blood? What good would that do them?

"Might be," he said noncommittally. "Where's his wand?"

Dawlish handed it over. Sirius examined it for a moment, then drew his own and touched them tip to tip.

"_Prior Incantato_," he said.

* * *

Remus felt ill. How could things change so quickly from good to bad? 

He had his new job. He had Emmeline back. He and Sirius and Harry had inaugurated a new tradition for full moons. And they had been about to go home, for the first time in far too long...

_And now this._

He sat with Emmeline, Tonks, and Harry in the Ministry cafeteria, each of them staring into something hot and caffeinated.

"So Sirius doesn't have any magic now?" asked Harry, for what seemed like the millionth time, but was probably only the sixth or so, Remus thought as rationally as he could.

Tonks shook her head. "Dad says he's basically a Squib at the moment." Ted Tonks was a Healer. Remus hoped, for the sake of the man's patients, that his daughter didn't get her clumsiness from him. "But they think his magic might come back eventually."

"Might," said Harry bitterly. "Eventually."

"Harry, calm down," said Emmeline soothingly. "He's not dead, not even badly injured."

"No, he's just lost something as central to his identity as his speech or his sight," Remus said, sounding angry even to himself. "I guess he's going to get a chance to see how well he'd do without work. We can't have a Head Auror who can't do magic."

Only in his own mind, with his eyes safely away from Emmeline, could he admit that he was badly frightened. What if Sirius' magic never returned? What if he had to spend the rest of his life like Argus Filch or Arabella Figg, an outcast in a world of magic-users?

_No, it's even worse for him. They've had their whole lives to get used to not having what others do. Sirius had it. Now he doesn't. _

_What's that going to do to him?_

* * *

It was nearly midnight at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. No one was awake to see the large black form moving across the lawn. No one heard the joyful note in its quiet whimpers as it lifted its nose into the air. 

_Soon. Any minute. Now._

The two scents were here. He had not been led wrongly. But one scent should be in the house. Instead, both were coming from behind it. Wasn't that wrong?

_Don't argue with good luck. Getting in there without waking anyone would have been hard. _

He leapt over the wall of the paddock lightly, hoping he wouldn't wake the grey creature dozing in one corner. His business was with the others.

There they were. His joy urged him to bark, but he held back. Silence was better for now.

Silently, he retransformed, and drew his wand from within his robes. This would be tricky.

* * *

Emmeline had offered to stay with Remus that night, as a friend, nothing more, but he'd told her he wanted to be alone for a while. It was half a lie and half the truth, he thought, as he lay in bed and stared at the wall. 

_Everything is half and half these days. Half of me is sure Sirius will be fine, the other half wants to hide the rat poison. Half of me thinks we might actually win this war, the other half is sure we're headed for darkness and doom. And half of me wants to go to sleep, and the other half doesn't. _

The first two dilemmas remained unresolved by the time the first half of the third one won out over the second. Remus slipped into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

_Half and half. What a distinctly ironic way to put it._

_Can the halves be separated, though? _

_That's what I'm going to try to find out._

Danger pushed her hair back from her face, noting absently that it was absurd for dream hair to get in her way as the real stuff did. Dream things should be better than real ones, or what was the point of dreams? It was just logical.

Hair has never been noted for its logic.

She stood beside a lake of lava, mostly red but swirled with other colors – blue, green, silver, gold. It was Remus' mind, or rather, the way her mind saw his. But that didn't matter. What mattered was finding her Remus, the man she loved, the man she'd married, somewhere within this.

_It's impossible,_ part of her nattered. _It's insane. No one could live in that. He's gone, long gone. Run, save yourself. It's what he'd want. _

She shook her head. _No. I'm going to solve this. Those colors. Do they mean something?_

She knelt by the side of the lake and touched the surface of the lava. It was warm to her touch, but not hot.

_Why am I surprised? I haven't used potholders in years, I boil the kettle for tea by touching it – why should this hurt me? _

She pulled her hand away. A drop of red clung to a finger. Experimentally, she stuck out her tongue and tasted it. A shudder ran through her, and –

She sat at a long wooden table, watching a boy with messy black hair and glasses sit down on a wooden stool and have the Sorting Hat lowered onto his head by Minerva McGonagall.

_Harry?_

But it wasn't Harry. Something about the scene made her sure of that.

She looked around and realized what. A very young Sirius Black sat several places down at the table, and a few seats away from him was a young Peter Pettigrew. If she had a mirror, Danger realized, it would reflect the eleven-year-old face of Remus Lupin. She was inside his memory of the night he'd been Sorted.

It ended. She was kneeling again beside the lake.

_Try a different color. _She dipped her finger into green and tasted.

Emmeline Vance smiled at her. "I get the feeling subtlety is not Sirius' strong suit."

"Oh, you can say that again," Danger's mouth said without her willing it.

"And if I were Sirius, I would, wouldn't I?"

"Yes, you probably would."

They both laughed.

Danger was herself again, with an idea tickling the edge of her brain.

_Try red again._

She dipped and tasted.

Laughter was all around her. "Success!" toasted James Potter, pulling the cork out of a butterbeer bottle. "Success beyond our wildest dreams!"

"I can't believe he leaves his stuff out like that for anyone to get at," said Sirius, tearing open a Cauldron Cake. "Don't the other Slytherins do things to it?"

"There were lots of charms on it, though," said Wormtail in moderate surprise. "Weren't there?"

"Of course there were," said James patiently. "But they were very simple charms. Even a second year could have gotten through them, I think. You should have been there, Moony. It was brilliant."

"We cursed all his things to spit at him," said Sirius, clinking bottles with Peter and James. "He'll be drenched by tomorrow."

Danger blinked. The idea was closer.

_Green again._

She pulled out of this memory very swiftly indeed. _That is not something anyone else should be knowing about, thank you very much. _It had involved Remus and Emmeline in what could only politely be called a compromising position. But it did reinforce the idea, which had now landed and was disembarking troops.

_The colors mean different kinds of memories. Red ones seem to deal with his childhood, or maybe just with him. Green means Emmeline. So what's silver?_

_Only one way to find out._

A drop of silver liquid fell onto her tongue.

"Daddy!" She was lying on the ground, shrieking. Her leg hurt terribly, and a monster stood over her, its teeth red with her blood. "Daddy! Mummy! Help me!"

A man's voice shouted nearby, and she heard the whistle of a spell. Dirt and stones pelted the creature. It yelped, then turned and ran off.

A man was holding her close. Dimly, she recognized Remus' father, John Lupin. "I'm so sorry, Remus," he whispered into her hair. "Merlin, I'm so sorry." He picked her up and carried her inside the house. She whimpered as every motion sent new stabs of pain down her injured leg.

Danger knelt on the lakeshore, shuddering all over. _Werewolf memories. I think I'll leave that one alone for now. So that leaves blue and gold. Hmm. Which to do first?_

A tendril of blue drifted towards her, and she dipped her finger into it.

"Disgusting," she spat, throwing down the _Daily Prophet_.

"What?" asked five voices in dull unison.

"Another Muggle family's been murdered," said a quiet voice beside her. She turned her head to see a blonde woman with hazel eyes leaning against the same tree trunk. "Death Eaters tortured them..."

Danger pulled away. She'd seen enough.

_Naomi._

She wasn't yet sure what to think of the woman. If this had only been her home universe, she knew what she would have done...

_But it's not. And I've done my part by telling Emmeline the truth about that kiss. As much as I'd love to do everything Emmeline threatened Naomi with, and a little more besides, it's not my job. _

_So that leaves gold. I wonder... _

The gold leapt readily to her finger, and from there into her mouth.

She sat on a couch, her arm around a woman's shoulders. Her voice was teasing. "Did you only marry me for my pretty face?"

"No, of course not." The woman turned to look at her, smiling coquettishly, and Danger yelped, breaking the memory instantly.

She pressed a hand against her racing heart, breathing slowly and deeply and willing her mind to calm.

She had been sitting next to herself.

_Okay, that's just gone a little beyond weird. Into utterly and totally bizarre. _

_But it's also good. I think._

She looked carefully at the lava, really taking the time to see the patterns. The blue, green, and silver, she noticed, were strewn all about, mixing in lovely fractal-looking patterns with the red, while the gold was almost all to one side, though it too was starting to mix. And... was she imagining it?

_No. I'm not. There's varying shades of red here. And some of the silver looks darker than the rest..._

"This might just work," she whispered. "If I don't think about it too much."

_That's right. No fear, no doubt. You'll sink yourself before you even start._

Instead, she surrounded herself with thoughts of her Pack, and the qualities from each of them that she would need the most. Sirius' restless energy, Aletha's calm determination, Harry's boundless confidence, Hermione's sureness of purpose, Meghan's cheerful willingness, and that way Draco had of looking at a situation differently than anyone else...

This last filled her suddenly, and she knew what she had to do.

She got to her feet and stepped out onto the lava, which rippled but held her weight. Carefully, she made her way over to the golden blotch, finding a place where it bordered on a patch of red and a swirl of silver.

She knelt down and thrust her hand into the place where the three colors converged.

* * *

Drifting... that was the word for what he was doing. Funny that he hadn't thought of it before. 

Funny that he hadn't thought of anything before, really. Thinking seemed to be a new skill to him. Or one long disused and suddenly taken up again.

_Most things that think have names. Do I have one?_

He did, somewhere, but it seemed that he shared it with someone else, and that was a bit of a puzzle. Most people didn't share their names with others.

Regardless, he concentrated on this. _What is my name?_

**Remus!**

_Remus?_

It seemed to fit him. All right, he was Remus. But this brought up a new question.

**Who are you?**

**Danger.**

The word itself didn't go particularly well with the emotions that rushed through him – joy, playfulness, a sense of teasing – but it worked, nonetheless.

**I know you,** he said, moving closer to the strange, not-strange other presence, his thoughts growing clearer and more detailed as he did. **How do I know you?**

**We are one.**

The thought took him aback a little. This presence was not the same as the other presence which had been insisting so successfully of late that he and it were one.

**No, that is another. You and I are one of our own accord. And our joining is not so complete as this. This joining was forced upon you. I do not believe you desired it.**

**I did not.** A sudden burst of memory came over him. He was dissolving in a wind, dissolving and blowing away and being pulled into another, subjugated and made into a fantasy, a moment's idle thought, a dream...

**Am I a dream?**

**You are not a dream to me.** Her thought was clear and strong. **Am I a dream to you?**

**I do not know.** He drew closer to her. He could see her now, indistinctly, through the surface of something, something which he knew would not allow him to pass. He had vague recollections of trying, and not succeeding, at some past time. But her hand was penetrating it, that barrier he could not cross. He could touch her to see if she were real. **May I find out?**

**Please.** She could see him now – her eyes had widened, her mouth was open as if she were panting –

He stretched out his hand and closed it around hers.

* * *

The lava suddenly ceased to be the semi-solid thing it had been up to now. Danger had time for one scream, which was cut off short as she fell through the surface. She thrashed, but got nowhere – it was as if she were insubstantial – 

She screamed once more, soundlessly, staring at her arms. It was happening again, what had happened when the Pack had been thrust out of their own world – she was dissolving, losing herself, and her magic was gone, she'd drained it calling to Remus, there would be no more Gertrude Granger-Lupin in just a moment or two –

Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her back into herself and upwards, out of the lava. She gasped in air as her head broke the surface, then was busy for a few moments coughing up what she'd swallowed, which meant she only got a look at her rescuer once she was back on land.

"You again," she said flippantly, since her real emotions could only be expressed non-verbally.

Remus didn't even bother with words, opting instead to take her in his arms and kiss her very thoroughly indeed, a courtesy she returned with pleasure.

"May I assume this means you know who I am?" she asked when she had caught her breath a second time.

"You," said Remus, rearranging them into a more comfortable position, "are my wife, and Hermione's sister. You are not some kind of strange sex fantasy about one of Harry's friends."

Danger gawked for a moment, then started laughing. "Is that what he thought? Oh, the poor man!"

"We have lived with Sirius Black and his wife in an arrangement we call a Pack for a little over fourteen years, and it seems to work very well. We have raised four children together, and none of them have become mass murderers yet, despite doom-sayers who will remain anonymous, who were so very sure that the son of Lucius Malfoy could never be anything but evil, and that children raised by a Dark creature – yours truly – must be Dark wizards and witches."

Danger giggled and glanced at the pool of lava. The gold was gone from within it, as was about half the red and a third of the silver. The rest remained, in fanciful patterns as before.

"And we seem to be reverting to type quite easily," said Remus, drawing her attention back to him. "You save me, I save you, we go out for drinks, everyone's happy."

"I wish we _could_ go out for drinks." Danger shivered a little. "You're yourself again, but for how long? Are you going to be able to stay together?"

Remus shook his head, his face grave. "I don't think so. I can already feel a pull to join back in." He nodded at the lake. "We're just too similar – not you and I, but he and I. There's no way I can share his body without eventually getting drawn into him."

"So you need your own body," said Danger. "Or at least a body without a soul – a human soul – currently resident."

"Yes. Why?"

"When are you going to ask the obvious question?"

"Which obvious question? The _What are you doing here_ one, or the _How did you survive that_ one?"

"I was going for the second one."

"There is actually a reason I didn't want to ask you that," said Remus lightly. "Have you ever heard the saying, 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth'?" His arms tightened around her. "This seems awfully likely to be a dream, and I'd rather not investigate it too closely. The longer I can believe it's real, the better. The moment I find a mistake..."

"You're not going to find any mistakes. It was our Animagus forms that saved us. I'm currently residing in the body of a very nice wolf bitch who goes by a name that doesn't translate well, but praises her ability to bear healthy pups."

"Saved _us?_"

"Aletha's cohabiting with a mare called Night-without-Moon, and Pearl met up with a yearling doe called Brookside Moss, if I understand it correctly."

The relief on Remus' face was embarrassing to see, even though Danger understood it perfectly. "They're all right," she said quietly. "A little shaken up, but healthy. No one died, Remus. You haven't failed."

"I should have known, though. I should have seen..."

"What, that a Death Eater would choose that day, that place, and that way to attack us? I thought I was the person with future dreams in this marriage."

Remus laughed shortly. "You're right. But I still feel I should have done something."

"What?" Danger understood Remus' feelings – he was the alpha, responsible for the Pack's safety, it was a blow to him when they were endangered like this – but he had to come out of this quickly. "What could any of us have done to counter that? There wasn't time, and even if there had been, do you know any counters to that kind of magic?"

"None that work very well," he admitted. "All right, you win. I'll stop obsessing over it."

"Ha."

"Out loud."

"I'll settle for that. Now, back to this business of finding you a body. I think we should start at the London Zoo..."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore, coming back from a late night at the Hog's Head, stopped as he stepped onto Hogwarts grounds. Something was... not quite amiss, but mildly unusual. He wondered what it could be. 

"Headmaster Dumbledore?"

He turned in the direction of the voice and lit his wand. "Yes?" he said politely.

"Good evening, sir." The speaker was a woman, dressed in simple black robes. A girl of about twelve stood beside her. "My daughter Meghan and I have been robbed of all our possessions, besides the clothes on our backs. We hoped to find shelter for the night at the school."

"I believe that can be arranged," said Dumbledore. "May I know your name, madam?"

"Aletha. Aletha Freeman."

* * *

(A/N: OK, so I didn't get everything into this chapter I thought I would. I'm still vacillating on a lot of stuff. This story could go a LOT of different ways. Please review, and let me know what way you want it to go! 

There's a small allusion to one of Neurotica's other stories somewhere in this chapter. Can you find it?

And I'd like to thank the person (you know who you are) who, in a private communication, informed me that she hoped I wasn't going to do what I had originally planned to do with the ending here, because that would just be lame. Thanks for your input. :-P)


	5. Five

(A/N: It all happens within Chapter Twenty-Eight. Enjoy!)

* * *

Draco Malfoy lay on his bed, wide awake although it was past midnight. He didn't dare go to sleep. Not after the night before. 

_You did something to it, didn't you?_ he challenged mentally. _You made it come out that way._

A weary sigh. **For the fifteenth time, no, I did not. I gave you a wide-open scenario. You set the parameters, and it played out. It's not my fault that it happened the way it did.**

_Bull, _Draco shot back. _That's not the way it would really go. _

**Are you sure?**

Draco groaned. Their previous fourteen conversations had been much the same as this, with minor variations only.

Unwillingly, Draco recalled his dream once more. It had started out as everything he wanted – the Dark Mark on his arm, the Dark Lord pleased with him, and free rein to take one of Potter's friends captive and do what he wanted. He'd chosen Granger, not only because she was a Mudblood and Potter's best friend other than Weasley, but as a slap at Black.

But it had backfired. He had cast the Cruciatus on her, but with the sound of her happy voice as she greeted Black fresh in his ears, he had been unable to listen to her scream for more than a few seconds. He had tried other, less magical, methods, the sort that would get Weasley madder at him than Potter, but recalling what Black had called her had put an end to that. Not that he had any real experience, anyway...

When his father had come to see how he was doing, he had been extremely disappointed, and said so in as many words. Then he had shown Draco how it should be done.

Her screaming hadn't been so bad, in some ways. It was what she'd done after it was over. She had cried, not begging for mercy or trying to bargain but simply weeping, with a quiet emptiness that haunted Draco. She had kept that up until his father left the room.

Then she had hurled herself onto him, scratching, kicking, biting, trying to get his wand away from him. In his panic, the only thing he'd been able to think of was that if she was dead, she couldn't hurt him. He'd thrown her off him and shouted "_Avada Kedavra!_", pointing his wand at her chest.

He wasn't sure who'd been more surprised, him or her, when a green light shot from his wand, accompanied by a rushing sound, and she fell to the floor, still staring at him.

He didn't want to think of what had happened after that, but he couldn't help it. The Dark Lord had not been pleased with this. The point of holding a hostage, he'd told Draco very softly, was that the hostage was to be kept alive. No one tried to rescue or ransom the dead. As well, the trail Draco had been at such pains to leave for Potter to follow alone was now being followed by Dumbledore himself, and all his minions with him. The hideout would have to be abandoned.

"So now I must only make one decision," said the Dark Lord, toying with Draco's wand. "Do I take you with me, and hope that with much correction you may learn your lesson? Or should I leave you here for the Mudblood-lovers to find you?" He had smiled cruelly. "The latter, I think. I have no time for fools and weaklings. Goodbye, Draco."

He had snapped Draco's wand in half, tossed it to him, and left, locking the door behind him. Locking Draco in with a dead body, with a person he had killed himself, whose friends were on their way, and would find him there, helpless, at their mercy.

He'd still been trying to get enough breath to scream when he'd woken up.

**I'll tell you the honest truth,** said Black tiredly. **The same truth I've been trying to tell you all day. I wouldn't give my worst enemy a dream that nasty.**

_I thought I was your worst enemy._

**You may be. But it doesn't have to be that way. Look, I've been thinking. There might be a way for us to get into separate bodies. That way, you don't have to have me in your head all the time. I could go and do what I've got to do, and you could stay here and do your own thing. Are you up for it?**

Have his body back? Get the Mudblood-lover out of his head? _Hell, yes! What do I have to do?_

**Right now, just go to sleep. You can't do anything tired. I'll tell you about it in the morning.**

_Fine. See you in the morning._

Draco sighed blissfully. He would never again take silence in his head for granted.

Sleep came to him now, and thankfully, brought no repeats of the horrific dream. Instead, he dreamed of running through a huge forest, down holes and through an underground maze, and never once realized that he was running on four legs and not two...

* * *

In the morning, after breakfast, Dumbledore made his way back to the corridor which housed the kitchens and the Hufflepuff common room. "Verity," he said to a portrait of a woman in yellow, which swung open. 

"Good morning, Headmaster," said Aletha Freeman, sitting at the kitchen table within.

"Good morning," echoed Meghan, looking up from her book for a moment. Her mother caught her eye and made a series of motions with her hands, and Meghan nodded and got up, taking her book into one of the bedrooms and closing the door.

"Unusual," said Dumbledore, seating himself.

"What is?"

"How old is Meghan?"

"She was thirteen last month."

"Most thirteen-year-old girls would argue more about being sent from the room. And most thirteen-year-old girls do not understand hand signals."

"Meghan is an unusual child in many ways. But I don't think you're here to talk about her."

"No. Last night, Madam Freeman, you mentioned something about Lord Voldemort, and the war against him. I am not sure I understood you properly."

"I know that an organization exists which is devoted to fighting against Voldemort. This organization is independent of the Ministry, and may therefore act when Ministry bureaucracy prohibits official action. I know that you have strong ties to this organization – possibly you founded it. I would like to join you."

"I see. In the normal way of things, I would have no qualms about welcoming you in. However, if I understand correctly, you and your daughter have nothing in the way of tangible goods, not even wands. Forgive me for what may be a rude question, but have you any special skills that might give me a reason to bring you into our ranks?"

Madam Freeman smiled knowingly. "You want to be sure I'm not just trying to get a free lunch."

"Inelegant, but accurate."

"I'm a trained Healer, fully qualified and licensed. Obviously, I need a wand to perform most of the spells, but I can diagnose and treat most common injuries and illnesses, and some that aren't so common. And I can brew, identify, and use potions, and not just antidotes."

Dumbledore nodded. "Go on."

"Meghan is my apprentice. Not formally, but she's been training, under me and others, since she was nine years old. And she has one skill I don't." Madam Freeman rose and went to the door her daughter had left by, opening it and saying a few quiet words. Meghan came out into the main room and followed her mother back to the table.

Madam Freeman picked up a knife lying on the table and showed it to Dumbledore, then, to his surprise, slid the blade along her own arm. The cut was long but shallow, and nowhere near a major vessel, but it bled freely, and would be painful. Dumbledore frowned. Why was she doing this?

Meghan placed one small, brown hand on her mother's slightly darker arm and closed her eyes. Dumbledore hid his surprise as the cut healed almost instantly, as if the child had used a wanded healing spell, though no wand was in evidence.

"Forgive me for not telling you about that in advance," said Madam Freeman as Meghan opened her eyes and took a seat at the table, "but I doubt you would have believed it."

"You may well be right," said Dumbledore mildly. He was about to ask if she knew the extent of Meghan's power, but realized that she was testing him, in a way, by allowing the girl to remain. He turned and addressed her directly. "Do you know how much you can safely do with this power, Meghan?"

"I've saved people's lives," said Meghan, her silvery eyes fixed on Dumbledore's face, "but it makes me very tired afterwards. The first time, I was in bed for a couple of months. But that was because Har... because the person I healed was very close to dying, and I was younger, and it was my first time using my power. I've been training it to use only as much as I need for a long time, and I only use it when I really have to. I know a lot of the usual ways to heal, with a wand and potions and things."

"I'm sure you are a credit to your family." Dumbledore smiled. "And to your teachers. Will you excuse us for a short time?"

"Yes, sir." Meghan returned to the bedroom where she had been.

"An unusual child, as you said." Dumbledore watched the closing door, then turned to Madam Freeman. "Unusual not least in her eyes. How did a child with such a skin color come to have grey eyes?"

"They come from her father's side of the family," said Madam Freeman with a thin smile.

"And she stopped herself from saying a name. The name of a person she once kept from dying. If I completed that name, how would I do so?"

"Do you suspect us of something, Headmaster?"

"I suspect you of being puzzling," said Dumbledore lightly. "Hogwarts grounds are highly protected, now more than ever. Yet you and your daughter arrived here seemingly without any trouble. You have literally nothing material with you, the marks of a recent transfiguration on you, and your daughter's eyes resemble those of a wizard of my acquaintance remarkably. Yet he could not be her father, unless she is older or younger than she seems."

"And you also want to know what connection we might have with Harry Potter."

"Yes."

Madam Freeman's smile broadened, and Dumbledore suddenly noticed a distinctly mischievous look in her eyes. "Would you like the plausible story, or the true one?"

Dumbledore laughed, for once taken aback. "Both, if you would be so kind. I am not sure I have ever had that choice given to me quite so bluntly before."

The mischievous look brightened slightly. "My people specialize in surprises, sir."

* * *

"At least they left my bloody wand in my robes," grumbled Sirius as he got dressed behind a screen. "Even if I can't bloody use it." 

Remus sat on the end of the bed, half-listening to Sirius. Madam Bones had made Sirius' temporary removal from the position of Head Auror official, and the Healers had cleared him to leave, so it was better for everyone if they just got home quickly. It would hurt Sirius to stay here any longer than he had to.

Something caught Remus' eye. At the corner of the bed, there was a little gap between two parts of the frame, the sort of thing you could get your robes caught on if you weren't careful, and tear out a bit of cloth. But there wasn't cloth in the gap now...

Remus pulled out a tuft of black fur and stared at it, bewildered. What was _that_ doing here?

If Sirius had been injured physically, Remus would have known in an instant where this had come from – Sirius hated to be stuck in bed, and would have been up and about, transforming into Padfoot without a second thought. But his injury was magical, specifically, that he didn't have any. So how could he have transformed?

"You ready, Moony?" Sirius emerged from behind the screen, dressed in his robes from the day before. "I want to get a few things from my office, or Dawlish's office now, I guess, and transfer over the Apparition chamber before we go."

"I'm ready," said Remus, shoving the fur into his pocket. "Come on, let's go find Harry."

Sirius' robes, he noticed as his friend pulled photographs and notes off the walls, were a little more wrinkled than he would have expected from one day's worth of wear. And was that a grass stain on his rear end?

_Something is not right here. _

He was still mulling it over as they took a Portkey back to Order Headquarters.

* * *

"All right, it's morning. Now what?" Draco asked his reflection. 

**Will you let me do some talking?**

_Talking to who?_

**Trust me?**

Draco wavered for a moment, then (with the recollection of Black pushing him aside by force still fresh in his mind) gave in. _All right._

A little mental twist, and he was riding sidecar in his own mind, able to see and hear and feel but in control of nothing. It was a bizarre feeling, but at the same time, rather relaxing. He didn't have to do anything, just experience.

"Dobby!" called Black, sitting down on his bed and taking off his shoes.

The house-elf appeared with a loud crack. "Yes, sir?"

"Dobby, I know you have orders about me. Are you allowed to tell me what they are?"

"Yes, sir. Dobby is not to bring Master Draco anything he can hurt himself with, sir, or that he could use to help him get out of the rooms here, sir. Dobby put up the wards and the Safety Charms himself, sir," the house-elf added with a small look of pride.

"And you did a very good job of it, too," said Black, smiling at the house-elf. "Listen, Dobby, who gave you these orders? Was it my mother, or my father?"

"It was Mistress Narcissa who gave the orders about Master Draco harming himself, sir, but Master Lucius who gave the orders about not allowing Master Draco to leave his rooms."

"I see." Black pulled off one of his socks and scratched his foot. "So just remind me. You have to follow my parents' orders before you follow mine, right?"

"Yes, sir."

Black swung the sock in his hand back and forth idly. "What if you didn't have to take orders at all, Dobby?"

Dobby went very still. "Dobby does not understand, sir," he muttered, his huge green eyes fixed on the sock Black was swinging.

"Oh, I think you do. Let me tell you a secret, Dobby. I'm not really mad. I wouldn't hurt myself, or anybody else, if I left these rooms. So letting me out wouldn't be a bad thing. But it would be against your orders." Black swung the sock a little faster. "What if you didn't have to obey those orders any more?"

"House-elves must always obey their masters' orders," said Dobby, still mesmerized by the sock. "Master Draco knows that."

"Yes, house-elves always have to obey orders from the family they work for. But what about a house-elf who doesn't work for any family? What about a house-elf who gets clothes? Who does he have to take orders from?"

"Only bad house-elves get clothes," said Dobby stiffly. "Dobby is a good house-elf."

Black sighed. "All right, I didn't want to do it this way, but I guess I have to. Dobby, this is an order. Answer my questions truthfully. Now, do you want me to give you this? Do you want to be free?"

_You're nuts._

**I'm not nuts. I'm pragmatic. He can help us, but only if he doesn't have to follow your dad and mum's orders. **

_And you think he's going to help after you set him loose? He'll leave, and then we'll just be in trouble!_

**Just watch.**

"Yes!" squeaked Dobby, looking petrified. "Yes, Dobby wants the sock!"

"Good. Don't be scared, I'm not about to punish you for it. Now, tell me this. If I gave you this sock, you'd be free. You wouldn't have to follow my orders. But maybe, to pay me back for freeing you, would you be willing to do a few little things for me?"

Dobby rocked back and forth on his feet, still staring at the sock. "May... may Dobby ask a question, sir?" he asked timidly.

"Go ahead."

"What sorts of little things would Master Draco be wanting Dobby to do?"

"Take down the wards around the room, and bring me my wand. Oh, and one other thing, possibly. Nothing harmful. I'm not asking you to set the house on fire or anything like that. And besides, you can't get in trouble for it if you're free. You can go where you like, do what you want." Black dangled the sock near Dobby's pointed nose. "Do we have a deal?"

Dobby's eyes were crossed with looking at the sock. Draco would have laughed, if he'd had the use of his face. Black was impassive.

Finally, Dobby tore his eyes away from the sock to look at Black. "Deal, sir," he said, nodding tremulously.

"Excellent. Here you are." Black extended the sock to Dobby, and Dobby took it from his hand. "Can you get me my wand right away? You'd better leave that here, if someone saw you with it they might ask some awkward questions. You're free now, no matter what."

"Yes, sir... yes..." Dobby set the sock reverently on the table, staring at it, and tripped over a chair as he backed away. Black did chuckle a little this time, but only a little, as Dobby got back up, righted the chair with a snap of his fingers, and vanished.

_I am going to be in so much trouble,_ said Draco morosely.

**Why? You didn't do it.**

_You really think my father's going to believe that another version of me, from another world, freed our house-elf?_

**You never know. He might.**

_Why are you so different from me, anyway? What changed?_

**It's a little thing called the Pack. You may have heard me talking about it. **

_Only in passing. What is it?_

**It's my family. Two mothers, two fathers, two sons, two daughters. **

_How symmetrical._

Black either didn't hear the sarcasm in his voice or didn't care. **Yes, isn't it? **

_And I assume none of those mothers and fathers are the same people I call by those names. _

**You assume correctly. **

Draco was about to go on when Dobby returned, holding his wand. "Here it is, sir," he said, handing it over. "And the wards around Master Draco's room are taken down now, so that Master Draco can come and go as he likes."

"Thanks, Dobby, that's great," said Black, grinning at him. "Would you mind hanging around for a little while? There's one more thing I might need, but I don't know what it is yet."

"Dobby will stay as long as Master Draco needs him," said the house-elf, his eyes shining. "Dobby will be forever grateful to Master Draco for this."

"I'm sure I'll appreciate that," said Black. "Will you excuse me a minute?"

Dobby took the hint and vanished.

**All right, Malfoy, I need you to do your part of this,** said Black, closing his eyes. **It's the first step to getting us separated. Just don't ask me why yet, all right? **

_Fine. What is it?_

**A really simple spell. _Revelaro Animalis._ It's a scry, you cast it on something reflective, like a mirror. But it has to be you casting it, not me. I already know what it is for me. So come on out, it's your turn.**

Draco reclaimed his body with a little shiver. This sharing business was getting to him. He'd be grateful when Black was out of his head.

"_Revelaro Animalis_," he said, pointing his wand at the mirror over the dresser.

It filled with fog, which lifted slightly to show animals running by. He watched them, until one stopped and turned towards him. He stared at it, bringing his face closer and closer to the mirror.

_Is that..._

**Is that what?**

_I don't know,_ lied Draco. The spell was broken, the mirror showed only his own face. _I didn't see it clearly._

**Yeah, you did. I can tell.**

_You can?_

**You can't lie when you're talking mind-to-mind. It shows up. What did you see? It's important.**

Black didn't know about his humiliation at the hands of Mad-Eye Moody, Draco recalled. _It was a white ferret. But it had grey eyes. I thought albinos always had pink. _

**I'm sure you saw what you should have, **said Black, with amusement in his tone. **Now brace yourself. You may not like this, but it'll only last a minute.**

Abruptly, there was nothing.

No sight. No sound. No feeling. Nothing.

It was the most terrifying thing Draco had ever experienced, including the dream he'd had last night. He would have given anything to be having that dream again – at least there he'd been able to see, to hear, to feel...

He gasped for air. His heart was going like a jarvey that had just seen a fat gnome. His eyes and ears were working as well as they ever had. _What the hell was that?_

**Sorry,** said Black, actually sounding contrite. **I had to tell Dobby something kind of secret, so I Occluded against you. I won't do it again.**

_You'd damn well better not! Remember whose body this is! You're just a visitor – I could kick you out any time I wanted!_

**I'll remember that,** said Black in a tone that hovered annoyingly between sincere and sarcastic. **While we're waiting, I'm going to pack. **

_Pack what?_

**A bag. Clothes. If we're leaving, we'd better take necessities with us.**

Draco watched as Black coolly ransacked his room, pulling out a Muggle-style backpack Draco hadn't even remembered was still in his closet and starting to roll up robes and stuff them in. _How do you even know what to take?_

**It was one of the games we played when we were little. We'd pretend we had to go on a trip all of a sudden, and we could only take what we really needed. **

_So enlighten me. What do we really need? _

**Three sets of clothes – wear, wash, and whoops.**

_Huh?_

**The clothes you're wearing, and two sets packed – one to put on tomorrow, and one for emergencies. Then bathroom basics, toothbrush and such, and one book or toy. **Black chuckled. **We were pretty little when we started learning this. **

_How little is pretty little?_

**Well, I was four. But it was just a fun game to us. We didn't know until we were a little older that it was actually training. Because there was a very real possibility that we might someday have to run for it. **

_Run for it? What kind of people did you grow up with?_

"Dobby has it here, sir!" Dobby appeared next to the table, holding a cloth bag with something alive inside, judging by the way it was twisting and squeaking. "Dobby has made the bag so that Master Draco cannot be bitten through it, and so that it will Vanish any mess inside it!"

"Dobby, that's great. Better than great – fantastic. You've more than paid me back. Go on, get out of here, and good luck to you. Don't take any wooden Galleons."

Dobby gave a high-pitched, squeaky laugh, set the bag on the table, collected his sock, and vanished with a loud bang.

_So what's in the bag?_ Draco asked, looking at it distrustfully. _Something you need for the spell?_

**Yeah. Pretty much. You sure you want to do this?**

_Am I sure I want to get you out of my head and get on with my life? Yes, I think I'm pretty sure about that. _

**So you're willing to go through with the spell to give us separate bodies. **

_I think I just said that. _

**No, you said something else. I'll ask you again. Are you willing to let me perform the spell that will put your mind and soul into a separate body from the one inhabited by my mind and soul?**

_Yes. I am._

**Excellent.**

Something about Black's cheerfulness suddenly made Draco suspicious. _What are you about to – _

But it was already too late.

* * *

Sirius slumped in an armchair in one of the ground floor rooms at Number Twelve. 

_So. What do I do now?_

He wasn't desperate enough, or stupid enough, to try anything as final as suicide. There was always the possibility his magic would come back, after all. And Harry and Remus wouldn't take it well if he tried anything that dumb.

But vague possibilities for the future didn't help him much right now.

_I just need something to do. Something to keep me from sitting here like a log while the war goes on around me. Something to keep my mind occupied..._

"Are you Sirius Black?"

Sirius nearly jumped through the roof. It was a woman's voice, silvery and musical, and he had heard it before, though never when he was awake.

He turned around, and there she was, exactly as she'd looked in his dream. Hair so dark it was impossible to tell if it was black or brown, cut neither too short nor too long, forming a natural helmet shape around her head. Brown skin, soft and smooth, with far more laugh lines than worry wrinkles in a face neither young nor old. Brown eyes, which could be wickedly teasing or gently tender, were currently alert and faintly puzzled, and Sirius realized he hadn't answered her question.

"Yes," he said after taking a deep breath to calm himself down. "Yes, that's me. I'm Sirius Black."

"Good. Aletha Freeman." She held out her hand, and Sirius took it. Her palm was warm, her fingers' grasp strong. "I'm a new member of the Order. You may see a smaller version of me running around. That's my daughter Meghan. She's thirteen. I understand you have some other children living here as well."

"Er, yes," said Sirius, pulling his mind away from the interesting things that hand, and its mate, had done in one of his dreams. "Yes, my godson Harry lives here, and his friend Hermione, and Arthur and Molly Weasley's children, they mostly have boys, except their youngest, Ginny, she's a girl..." He realized he was babbling and stopped. "Are you married?" he asked instead, and then could have kicked himself. _Way to be subtle, Padfoot. Nice one. _

She nodded. "Yes, I am. But my husband won't be joining me here. We're... separated, I suppose you could say."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Madam Freeman."

"Aletha. Please. No one's called me Madam Freeman in years."

**And thereby hangs a tale,** said a wicked-sounding voice in the back of Sirius' mind. **And wouldn't you just love to know what it is?**

_Shut up._ "Call me Sirius, then. Everyone does anyway."

"Gladly. And what I was sent to tell you is that lunch is ready."

"Excellent. Lead me to it."

* * *

When they were safely in the kitchen and Sirius talking with Remus and some of the other members of the Order, Aletha could allow herself a sigh. 

_I wish I hadn't had to do that. But he's not _my_ Sirius. It would be wrong of me to play with him when my heart is given elsewhere. _

She smiled to herself, recalling the night just past.

She had awakened to an unusual sound near her front hooves, looked down, and barely managed to keep herself from screaming. Meghan had been lying there, no longer a doe but her own human daughter. The sound Aletha had heard was her robes rustling as she turned over in her sleep.

Then she'd looked up and seen the second unbelievable thing. Sirius, standing there in front of her, with a wand in his hand and his heart in his eyes. He hadn't said anything, just pointed the wand at her, and she'd felt the familiar twisting of her body into her human shape, something she had thought she would never feel again.

No words had been needed when they were both human again. None ever were, for those first moments with the one you loved, Aletha mused. Just their lips, and their hands, making certain that it really was the beloved one and not a cruel dream.

Then he'd picked up Meghan and led them out of Buckbeak's paddock, so that they could talk without fear of waking the temperamental hippogriff. Meghan, when she awoke, had been overjoyed to see her father again, and to be in her human shape, but like a good cub, she could tell that time was short, so she had kept her expressions of joy to a minimum, hugging and kissing both parents several times before settling down next to Sirius.

They had told each other their stories. Aletha's was the simpler – Danger had flung her and Meghan into the bodies of the animals, stopping only for an instant to beg their permission, which the animals had granted quickly, understanding that it was a matter of life and death. A day or two later, Danger had contacted them through dreams and told them when and where she had seen them being in a prophecy dream. They had left Hogwarts grounds, and Aletha had Apparated herself and Meghan to London, where they had done their part to save Sirius from the giants. Since then, they had been either in the Forest or with Hagrid.

Sirius told a grimmer tale, one of being nearly destroyed by another mind, a mind which bore him no malice, which didn't even know he was there. The process would have gone on longer, except that the Sirius of this world had been cursed by a backfiring wand, and his magic drained out of him.

"But we weren't merged enough yet for it to take my magic too," said Sirius. "And with that big a difference between us – him with no magic, me with it – we just kind of naturally separated. He's still unconscious from the shock, so I have free use of the body for the moment. I sorted through what I knew and figured out what must have happened to me, and to us, and where you were. I waited until everyone was asleep, then headed out – and here we are."

The three of them had spent a moment simply breathing together, being once more husband and wife and child, father and mother and daughter. Then Meghan had asked the question on all their minds.

"Now what?"

They had come up with a plan, as simple as it could be without missing anything, and subject to revision when they got in touch with the rest of the Pack. Sirius had kissed them both goodbye and left.

And now here was this other Sirius, polite, but looking at her strangely, as if he didn't quite know what to make of her...

Someone was shaking her arm. She turned. "Yes, what is it?" she said brusquely to Meghan.

"I need to tell you something," said Meghan, with an air of repeating herself. Her hands moved. _Secret. Important. _

Aletha leaned down to hear what her daughter had to say.

When she heard it, she forgot all her irritation. "Are you sure?" she asked quietly.

Meghan nodded eagerly. "Positive. She called me eagle's daughter, and swore it by my yellow-handled dagger."

"That sounds pretty sure." Aletha smiled to herself, and began to whistle a song from a musical. The words of the song mentioned the time that the singer would meet her love.

_Tonight, tonight..._

* * *

A teenaged wizard eating his lunch in the Leaky Cauldron also whistled this song. He was a handsome young man, with brown hair cut just long enough to show off its waves and bright blue eyes with a sparkle of mischief in them. 

The backpack occupying the other chair at his table moved. **Will you cut out that bloody whistling?**

**Why?**

**It's giving me a headache. **

**I'm so sorry. I'll stop right away. **

**This isn't fair, you know.**

**I didn't force you to come. You could have stayed. **

**Like _this_? They would have killed me! **

**Why? You weren't hurting anything. **

**Animals don't belong inside the house. **

**So they would have killed you? Not just caught you and thrown you out? **

**Killing's easier. **

The boy rolled his eyes. **Once again, you make me utterly grateful to my mother. **

**Why your mother?**

**I suppose you could say she threw me into the lifeboat as the ship was sinking. **

**I don't understand. **

**I know you don't. Now, since you've had your lunch, why don't you take a nap or something?**

**I didn't like lunch, and I don't want to take a nap. I don't want to do anything inside this smelly little bag. I can't breathe in here. And you lied to me. **

**I didn't lie. I said I was going to put us into separate bodies, and I did that. I never said anything about which one of us I was going to put in a new body. Now quit whining and go to sleep. **

**Make me.**

**Fine.** The boy reached into the pocket of his robes for his wand, then pointed it at his backpack. **Whistling winds and water deep, make this whiny ferret sleep.**

**Ha. I bet that's not... even... a real...**

Draco Black chuckled. "Sweet dreams," he said quietly, pocketing the wand again.

_Now let me see, where was I? Oh, yes. Gringotts, a Muggle clothing shop, an animal shelter, and then I'm off to the Zoo..._

This was turning out to be quite a lot of fun.

* * *

(A/N: So, does this answer your questions, at least some of them? And do you enjoy Draco Malfoy's temporary fate? And will you please, please, please review? Just mention one line you liked, or one idea, and I will be so happy! And happy authors write more story!) 


	6. Six

(A/N: This chapter pretty much takes us off the _Consequences_ map, timeline-wise... though it's still the basis for this story, not to mention well-written and fun, so don't quit reading it!)

* * *

Harry arched his back, stiff from bending too long over his trunk. He had nearly all his clothes packed, though, except the ones Mrs. Weasley had washed for him... 

A knock sounded on his door.

"Come in!"

Sirius opened the door, arms full of folded clothing. "I believe this belongs to you, sir."

"Yeah, thanks." Harry took the clothes from his godfather and dumped them into his trunk, ruining the careful folding job.

"Harry," mock-scolded Sirius. "Molly spent a long time on that."

"They get wrinkled when you wear them anyway," argued Harry. "Or you can just wave your wand and take the wrinkles out..." He stopped. "Oops."

"It's all right," said Sirius with a smile that only looked a little forced. "You don't have to stop talking about magic around me, Harry. Hell, if you did that, we'd never have anything to talk about around here at all."

Harry nodded, looking at the floor. _It is not all right. I'm so stupid. Open mouth, insert foot. _

"I have some news, too." Harry heard the bed creak as Sirius sat on it. "We're going to have a full house out at the cottage. Aletha – Madam Freeman to you – and Meghan are coming along with you and me and Remus and Emmeline and Hermione."

Now Harry looked up. "Why?"

Sirius shrugged. "They're claiming it's for Meghan's sake, so she doesn't have to stay here with just her mother and a lot of other adults, but actually I think they want me to have a Healer around, just in case that curse had some kind of delayed effect."

"Is there even going to be room?"

"We'll manage. Hermione was going to be in the living room anyway, so we'll just add two more beds there for Aletha and Meghan."

"What about Emmeline?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Do you really have to ask?"

_Oh._ Harry felt himself flushing. _Open mouth, insert other foot._

"But hey, you'll be back in your own bed tonight, right?"

"Yeah." Harry found a smile somewhere – it even felt real. No matter how crazy the world seemed to be, there was still some comfort in the idea of his own room, his own bed...

For one odd instant, two images danced before his eyes. One was his room at the cottage, the room he'd been so excited about as a six-year-old and still enjoyed coming home to, and the other...

Two twin beds, one under the double windows, one on a neighboring wall. A huge bookshelf, two chests of drawers, and a desk beside each bed, which doubled as a nightstand. The blankets on the beds looked handmade, like Mrs. Weasley's sweaters, and Gryffindor pennants and Quidditch posters covered the walls. The floor was almost totally concealed by a layer of clothing, books, parchments, and other random detritus.

Harry blinked and shook his head. That looked like a nice room, certainly, but it wasn't his. He'd never shared a bedroom with anyone, except his dorm at Hogwarts. His room at home was his and no one else's.

"Knock, knock," said Sirius, tapping lightly on Harry's skull. "Anyone home?"

"Cut that out." Harry slapped his godfather's hand away. "I was just thinking."

"Alert the _Daily Prophet_, somebody. Harry Potter was thinking."

"Shut up."

Ginny knocked on the open door. "Hi, Harry, hi, Sirius," she said. "I was just coming up to see if you needed any help, Harry. Plus, I brought these." She displayed three odd socks. "Mum found them in with Ron's. It looks like her sock-sorting spell isn't what it used to be."

"I'll be on my way, then," said Sirius, standing up and giving Harry a significant look. "That door stays open," he added, before walking through it.

"What was that about?" asked Ginny, frowning.

"I think he thinks I like you," said Harry, accepting the socks. "You know, _like_ like you."

"You mean like boyfriend-girlfriend like?"

"Yeah. That kind." Harry turned away to put the socks in his trunk.

Ginny's voice was almost too low for him to hear. "Do you?"

Harry froze. "Do I what?" he asked carefully.

"You know. Like me."

"You mean, do I _like_ like you?" Very slowly, Harry turned around.

Ginny was staring at the floor, the little of her face Harry could see turning a lovely shade of vermillion. "Yeah."

"Well... do you like me?"

Ginny's head jerked up. "No fair! I asked you first!"

"I asked you second."

"That's not how it works!"

"How does it work?"

"I asked you first, you have to answer first!"

"What if I want you to answer first?"

"I don't want to answer first!"

"Neither do I!"

"Fine, I'll answer first," snapped Ginny. "Ruddy coward. Yes."

"Yes, you like me?"

"Yes, I like you. Happy now?"

"Yes, actually." Harry felt a rather stupid grin appearing on his face. "Because I like you too."

"Well, that's nice for you..." Ginny trailed off as the meaning of his words sank in. "Oh."

"Yeah."

Neither of them was ever sure who stepped forward first.

* * *

Sirius was heading for his own bedroom to finish up his packing, but Meghan Freeman found him first. "Excuse me, Mr. Black, but there's someone down in the kitchen who wants to see you." 

"Thanks, Meghan. And call me Sirius."

"Yes, sir."

Sirius descended the staircase quietly, so as not to set off his mother. _She's a shy little thing. But pretty. Takes after her mum. _

"I was summoned?" he said, pushing open the kitchen door.

"Sirius–" Naomi was sitting at the kitchen table, her eyes rimmed with red, a bruise on one cheekbone. "Sirius, I swear I didn't know about this beforehand. I swear I didn't know what they were going to do, or I would have told you, I swear!"

"I believe you," said Sirius, holding up his hand. "What happened to your face?"

"Oh, that. I fell down."

Aletha, examining one of Naomi's arms, nodded absently. "If you say so. What happened here?"

She pressed her finger gently to a spot, but Naomi pulled away with a gasp of pain anyway. "That's – nothing. I don't know how it happened. It's almost healed anyway."

Aletha appeared to be about to say something, but didn't. "I can give you something for those," she said, getting up and going to the cupboard. "If you can wait about an hour. Can you?"

"I think so." Naomi closed her eyes, collecting her thoughts. "Yes. I'm not expected back at all tonight."

Sirius joined Aletha at the pantry. "Did you see something there?" he asked.

"I'll tell you upstairs," said Aletha quietly. "Here, make yourself useful. Carry these." She handed him an armload of bottles and bundles. "We'll be back in a little while," she said to Naomi.

The room she led him to was one Sirius hadn't thought anyone was using, but a cauldron sat in the middle of the floor with a fire under it, and there were shelves all around with a few potion bottles sitting on them.

"Your Professor Snape sometimes brews here," said Aletha over her shoulder, answering his unspoken question, as she set down the things she'd carried herself. "I'm just borrowing his working space. This doesn't take more than an hour, and I'll clean up again at the end of it. Hand me the banana seeds, please?"

Sirius played ingredient-finder for a few minutes, amusing himself by trying to anticipate Aletha's next request. He'd never been interested in potions much before, but somehow it was different when the person bending over the cauldron was not Snivellus Snape, but an attractive woman who kept sneaking looks at him when she thought he wasn't looking.

"You asked about Naomi," Aletha said when the first round of ingredients was in the cauldron, simmering together.

"Wha – oh. Right."

"She might genuinely have fallen down to get that bruise on her face. But no way of falling that I ever heard of puts bruises shaped like someone's fingers around your arms. And they were not almost healed. They were as fresh as the one on her face."

Sirius needed only an instant to put this together. "You think someone hurt her," he said. "Someone beat her up."

"More specific even than that. You wouldn't know if she's seeing anyone? I know she used to be with Mr. Lupin, but that's long since over..."

Sirius shook his head. "I don't think she's with anyone right now."

Aletha shrugged. "It could have been a one-time thing. But that's the way most women come by injuries like hers."

"From boyfriends?"

"Boyfriends or husbands."

"Is that why you're separated?"

No sooner had the words come out of Sirius' mouth than he wanted to take them back. Aletha stiffened as if someone had Petrified her.

**Nice,** muttered a voice at the back of his head. **She's probably going to slap you. And if she doesn't, you're going to wish she had.**

"_No_," said Aletha softly, but extremely intensely. "My husband never raised his hand to me in his life. Not that way." She suddenly grinned. "If he had, I would have hit him right back. I've played Beater in my day."

"Hey, me too! Back at Hogwarts, and sometimes in pick-up games nowadays... but we never had any girl Beaters when I was playing. It was always boys."

"I was the first in ten years when I played."

"Well, I hope I can play with you sometime."

Aletha's smile was distinctly naughty. "Do you, now?"

**Get out now,** advised the voice. **She'll just twist anything else you say until your face gets so hot you think you're a phoenix. **

"Er, Naomi's all by herself," said Sirius, looking at the door. "It's kind of rude to leave her that way. Excuse me?"

Aletha stirred the potion, still smiling. "Of course. See you in a while."

"Right. See you."

Sirius made his escape. Once outside the room, he tried to figure out if Aletha's attitude shook him up more than it turned him on, or vice versa.

**Cut that out, now, **said the voice sharply. **She's married with a daughter. Find your own woman.**

Sirius rolled his eyes. _Great, now I have an inner chaperone... _

He made his way back down to the basement, where Molly Weasley had made tea for herself and Naomi. It didn't take her long to add a third mug to the proceedings.

"It was Lucius Malfoy who set it up," said Naomi. "You know about Diggory, right? The Polyjuice wore off and all?"

Sirius nodded. "He's been under Imperius nearly a year."

"It was Malfoy's Imperius. But there's something odd, Sirius. That curse was not supposed to drain your magic."

"It wasn't?"

"No."

"Well, what was it supposed to do?"

Naomi took a gulp of tea. "They've found a curse that acts like the Dementor's Kiss," she said softly. "It was supposed to suck your soul out."

Molly rescued Sirius' mug just in time, as it fell from his suddenly nerveless hands. The voice in the back of his head swore softly.

"Mum!" Ron appeared on the stairs. "Mum, come quick! Hermione's ill!"

Molly left the kitchen at a run. Sirius remained where he was, willing himself to remain upright and calm. He could have the heebie-jeebies later.

"How do you know?" he asked Naomi when he thought he could trust his voice not to shake.

Naomi stared at the tabletop. "Don't ask me that. I just do. The Dark Lord doesn't. He thinks Malfoy meant to do just what he did. He's really pleased. But Malfoy's mad because his spell didn't work right..."

Suddenly, everything fell into place for Sirius. "And he took it out on you," he said. "He took it out on you, didn't he? That's how you get your information – you're..." He couldn't say it. "You're with Malfoy."

"Not because I want to be," said Naomi defiantly, looking up. "You think I like it? I'd rather be honestly tortured. At least then I wouldn't have to pretend I liked it, part of the time."

"Part of the time?"

He could barely hear her. "Sometimes he doesn't want me to enjoy it."

Sirius didn't quite know what to say to this, but luckily didn't have to try, as Albus Dumbledore chose this moment to make his appearance in the kitchen. "Naomi," he said, smiling at her.

"Professor." Naomi nodded to him.

"Sirius, would you excuse us?"

"Of course." Sirius got up and headed for the stairs.

**Might as well go check on Hermione. Just to see if she's all right. **

Sirius shrugged. It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

The room with Hermione in it wasn't hard to find, with Harry, Ginny, and Ron hovering around the door looking worried. "What's wrong?" Sirius asked them.

"Dunno," said Ron absently, obviously listening for sound from within the room. "We were just talking, looking at a book, when all of a sudden she looked scared, and then started saying how she couldn't remember, she couldn't remember, and then she grabbed her head and started crying and saying it hurt..."

The door opened. Aletha emerged. "She's going to be fine," she said soothingly. Ginny released a loud sigh, Harry gave a shaky chuckle, and Ron leaned against the hallway wall, eyes closed. "This may well be related to her parents' deaths. Translating emotional pain into physical is not unheard of by any means. I've given her a mild pain reliever, and she's asleep now, but she ought to be awake by dinnertime."

**Thank God.**

Sirius blinked, surprised. Why was the voice in his head sounding so relieved that Hermione was going to be all right?

_If this keeps up, maybe I should get my head examined. I won't be much good if my magic comes back but I'm a split personality or something..._

**Sorry,** said the voice, sounding contrite. **I'll be good.**

Sirius decided that, in this case, a little willful ignorance might be a good thing.

* * *

A young man of about sixteen was strolling through the London Zoo that afternoon. He was conspicuous only because few people of his age visited the Zoo alone, and this was not enough to make him stand out for more than a moment. Those few people who did notice him assumed he was there to meet a girlfriend, and smiled reminiscently or shook their heads disapprovingly, according to their natures, before going about their business. 

Certainly the young man was doing nothing unlawful. He hadn't sneaked in or tried to steal anything. He'd paid openly for the popcorn he was holding, and he was eating it himself, not throwing it to the animals.

No one noticed that he was occasionally sliding a kernel or two into the large backpack he was wearing.

* * *

**This stuff is disgusting. **

**Fine. More for me. **

**That's not what I meant. **

Draco Black shielded the part of his mind which was amused and slipped another few kernels of popcorn under the flap of the backpack. **What did you mean, then?**

**It's... greasy. **

**What were you expecting? **

**I don't know. I've never been to one of these places.**

_Why am I not surprised?_

Draco kept that thought to himself. Draco Malfoy didn't need to hear it, nor to know some of the more secret feelings Draco Black harbored for him.

He rolled his eyes as his mind took his thoughts and twisted them into things he'd never meant. _I'm dirty-minded today, aren't I? Nothing like _that. _It's just that I don't think he'd take kindly to pity. _

But pity was the main emotion Draco had felt once he had understood where Malfoy's life had taken him. The other boy had cunning, intelligence, even bravery, but all of them had been twisted and subjugated by something he called "sophistication" and Draco called "shameless propaganda".

_But enough about him. Time to think about me. And more, about us, as in, the Pack._

Starting in the summer before his fourth year at Hogwarts, Danger had begun to teach him some of the tricks she'd learned over the years for manipulating dreams, after first warning him that if she saw any signs whatsoever that he was playing with anyone's dreams without their permission, she'd roast him from the inside out. Draco knew she wouldn't truly harm him – the Pack had kept to their long-ago promise, made to a small and frightened boy, that they would never hit him – but there were plenty of ways to make him sorry he'd misbehaved that wouldn't leave scars, physical or otherwise. He'd been good.

It was thanks to Danger's lessoning that Draco had been able to bring himself and Malfoy into a dream together, and to give Malfoy the ability to set his own dream afterwards. It had been very tempting to fiddle with it, to tweak things ever so slightly, but Draco had resisted, and was glad he had, since the dream had turned into a nightmare without the slightest help from him. It was even possible Malfoy was starting to see that joining the Death Eaters wouldn't be the smartest thing in the world to do.

It was also due to Danger's lessons that she'd been able to find him in his dreams, during the night just past. And she hadn't been alone.

Sitting down on a bench and taking the backpack off, he set it beside the popcorn box, opened the zip just far enough that Malfoy could get his little ferret head inside the greasy cardboard container, and shut his eyes to remember.

* * *

Draco amused himself first by creating a careful reproduction of his and Harry's bedroom at the Den, complete with the level of mess that only two almost-sixteen-year-old wizards could generate. Once he was satisfied that everything looked the way it should, he put on his favorite CD, Andrew Lloyd Webber's _Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,_ and lay down on his bed to listen. 

Joseph had just refused the advances of Potiphar's wife when the music shut off. Draco rolled over to stare at the CD player. Was it broken? Things didn't just break without a reason in dreams.

Someone knocked on the door.

Draco's polite reflexes, plus his knowledge that nothing harmful could invade his dream, took over. "Come in!"

The door swung open. Moony stood in the hallway outside, looking in. "Nice work," he said. "You even replicated the smell."

Something Draco and Luna had often discussed was the inherent unfairness of things like emotions. They attacked boys and girls equally, from what Draco could discern, but girls were expected and allowed to let them show, the stronger the better. The only things it was acceptable for a boy to show strong emotion about were Quidditch, food, and his girlfriend. In olden days, there had been rituals to help show emotions in ways everyone could deal with, but most of those were gone now.

The Pack, founded during a time of heightened emotion and more aware of one another's feelings even than normal families, had created certain rituals of their own to help with this dilemma. Draco took advantage of one of these now, crossing the room to kneel at his Pack-father's feet and bowing his head. Moony laid his hand on the back of Draco's neck, the skin-to-skin contact sending alternating waves of warmth and chill down Draco's spine.

He was accepted. He belonged. He was Pack.

Moony took his hand away, then offered it to Draco to help him stand up. As he did, Draco realized with a slight shock that he was nearly as tall as Moony these days. "I'm glad to see you," he said, clearing off his desk chair by flicking his fingers. "Sit down?"

"You couldn't have created a clean version of your bedroom?" Moony stepped carefully from one island of carpet to the next.

"He probably doesn't remember what it looks like," said another voice from the door.

Mothers were an occasional exception to the rule about emotion, and there was no one here to see him anyway. Draco hugged Danger so tightly that she had to box his ears lightly to make him let her go. "I have to breathe, you know, fox," she scolded, reaching up to run her hand across his head.

"Hey, hey, watch it," protested Draco, smoothing his hair back into place.

"Harry doesn't mind when I do that."

"For Harry, it doesn't matter. His hair always looks like someone just did that to him. Mine shows it."

"It also shows when you spend hours combing it," put in Moony. "I'm beginning to think the mirror in your bathroom has your image permanently embedded in it."

"So I like to look nice. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. But there's a difference between liking to look nice and being vain."

"I am not vain!"

"Listen to us," said Danger, sitting down on Harry's bed. "We've been together all of fifteen seconds and we're already back to normal. Give us fifteen minutes and I bet we'd forget anything was wrong."

"And that we can't afford." Moony's tone had changed subtly. He was no longer the father, but the commander. "Report, please, Snow Fox."

The use of the formal phrase and his Animagus name told Draco this had just become an official matter. He straightened and began to describe his experiences, keeping the recital factual – this was not the time to go looking for sympathy. When he had finished, Moony and Danger filled him in with what they knew about the rest of the Pack that Hermione hadn't told him already.

Hermione herself arrived near the end of this report, looking frazzled. "It was harder to get away tonight," she reported, after she had hugged Moony gladly. "I think I'm starting to get assimilated. I'm forgetting things, and remembering ones out of her life instead of mine."

Getting Hermione a body of her own immediately went to top priority on their list of things to do. But how were they going to manage it? Danger and Moony, once they left here, would be in animal shape, safe from assimilation but unable to do anything in the human world. And Draco's original plan, of moving in with a fox and going his ways to find the Pack, wouldn't help Neenie any.

That was when a wicked thought occurred to him. Why should he be the one to move out of the human body?

"But can you manage it?" asked Moony when he described his plan. "Is Malfoy an Animagus?"

"No, but he's been a ferret before. Mad-Eye Moody turned him into one once. It wasn't for long, but it'll set a template."

"How are you going to get permission from the animal host?" asked Danger. "You can't communicate with something outside your own species when you're not in animal form."

"Dobby can do it for me. House-elves can talk to pet animals and vermin in the house. I don't think a ferret's too far from that."

"Some people keep ferrets for pets," added Hermione. "So you should be covered."

* * *

_And I was, and it worked..._

He looked down at his bag and unzipped it a little farther, not disturbing Malfoy, who was working his way deeper and deeper into the popcorn. The bag might look like a Muggle thing, but it had been magically expanded within, much like the Weasleys' car. Draco's Muggle and magical clothing, his bathroom kit, and his money, both varieties, fit inside with room to spare.

_Good thing Gringotts keeps those forms around._ For wizards or witches who had lost their keys, or couldn't be bothered to bring them, Gringotts Bank had magical forms for the withdrawal of money from vaults. If you wrote down the number of a vault you weren't entitled to draw money from, you would start to sneeze, and keep sneezing until you tore up the form or wrote the correct number. Owl Order forms were magically secure in the same fashion, to keep people from ordering things with someone else's gold.

Draco had been a little worried that his access to the Malfoy vault might have been revoked, and had a moment of panic when he couldn't recall the number, but the goblin on duty had supplied it to him when he'd asked, and his nose hadn't even itched when he'd inscribed the numbers on the form. Quickly he wrote out the amount he wanted – fifty Galleons, twenty in gold and thirty in Muggle money – and handed the form in.

Once that was done, he'd departed through the Leaky Cauldron and taken a bus to a shop where he'd bought himself a few changes of clothes, with Malfoy making snide comments from the backpack about Muggle clothing in general and the way it made him look in particular. Draco had been incredibly tempted to point out that the other boy was scorning his own body, but decided not to.

Then he'd headed for an animal shelter.

**You're not leaving me here,** had been the first thing out of Malfoy when he'd seen where they were. **I've read about these places. They kill animals. You are NOT leaving me here!**

**You're right, I'm not. Will you please calm down?**

**You're not?**

**I'm not. In fact, I'm here for the opposite reason. **

**What?**

**To look into taking something away. **

He had asked to see a calico cat, and the nice lady at the desk had brought one out for him. She was a pretty thing, a little ragged with living on the streets, but starting to fill out. He'd petted her, listened to her purr, asked about her health (no illnesses, up to date on her shots, and never had kittens), and decided she'd do. They were holding her at the shelter for him, until he came back later in the afternoon. He'd also had a look round, just in case, to see if they had any large black dogs at this shelter, and had spotted one who might fit the bill.

_And after that, I came here..._ He checked his watch. _And it's just about time. _

He stood up and scooped Malfoy back into the bag, snickering as the ferret burped. **Enjoying yourself?**

**Shut up. **

Draco turned the popcorn box upside down and shook it. Nothing fell out. **You owe me a pound, **he said. **That box was almost full. **

**You bought it with my money anyway. **

**Your family's money. **

**Whatever. **

Draco made his way into the Zoo, looking for one particular exhibit. _Here, kitty, kitty, kitty..._

He stopped, suddenly feeling vaguely unsettled. **Are you all right?** he asked his passenger.

**Fine. Why?**

**No reason. I just feel funny. **

**No surprise. You look funny too.** Malfoy guffawed at his own humor. Draco rolled his eyes and continued on his way, the feeling diminishing, then vanishing altogether, and it wasn't long before he found the place he wanted.

_Lions._

There were two or three females lying in the afternoon sun, but it was the male Draco was interested in. And the male who was interested in him, for that matter. The majestic creature got to his feet and sauntered down the exhibit, staring at Draco every step of the way.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lion," Draco said jauntily. "Isn't it a lovely day?"

Mr. Lion was now close enough that Draco could see his eyes. Instead of being cat-gold, they were the same clear blue that Draco's own had been rendered by the glamour charm he'd done before leaving Malfoy Manor.

"It'll be an even lovelier night. A nice night to go out for a walk, meet up with some old friends. I don't know about you, but I'm planning on heading out around eleven. And I might even stop by here first... but the Zoo's closed by then, isn't it? What a shame. I suppose I'll have to miss seeing you this evening, then."

The lion gave him a look which translated into "Show up or you're lunch."

Draco winked at him and turned away.

_Now to find something to do for the rest of the day..._

**Do you like music?**

**Why?**

**Because I wondered if you wanted to take in a show or something. I can probably get tickets for a matinee at the half-price booth. **

**What kind of show?**

**A musical, most likely. Singing and dancing and an improbable story with a happy ending. **

**I don't mind music. I don't know much about it, though. I might have liked to learn...**

Draco grinned to himself. _Gotcha. _**Well, there's no better time to start than right now. I think I'll take you to _Les Miserables_. **

**That doesn't sound very happy. I thought you said they had happy endings. **

**They do. But the middles are usually pretty angst-filled. **

**Sounds like fun. **

**You have no idea. **

Chatting surprisingly amiably, boy and ferret set off for the nearest Underground station.

* * *

(A/N: Geez, keeping everyone in is harder than I thought it would be... it's hard enough in my own world, when I only have my own characters to worry about... I'm glad this is going to be pretty short. This chapter may, possibly, mark the halfway point. It depends on how much farther I'm going to take one or two plot threads... but you'll understand when I get there. 

This is the last daily update, though. On Monday, I have to start doing schoolwork. So please make it easier for me – review! Special hugs to anyone who can tell me some of the plot developments in _Dealing with Danger_ from the clues in this story!)


	7. Seven

Albus Dumbledore walked along a path near the village of Hogsmeade, searching for...

For several things, actually. For a place he'd had described to him. For artifacts, or traces of those artifacts, that he'd also heard descriptions of. And for a message, which he surmised might be present.

_If my counterpart in the other world is similar to myself, he will be searching for some way to bring these people home. As I am. For their sake, and for ours. Such a magical imbalance cannot be good for either world. _

Traces of magic were everywhere along the path, making it obvious, to one who knew how to look, that wizards and witches often walked here. To Dumbledore's vision, aided by a certain spell, they appeared as threads or ropes of variously colored light.

He came around a bend in the path and had to shield his eyes. The scene before him blazed with magical traces. Carefully, he reduced the glare of the magic to a level he could deal with, then looked at it again.

The spot matched Aletha's story. Dumbledore could easily see several places where a watcher could have waited to ambush the Pack. And there was magic everywhere. There could be no doubt – this was where the eight unwilling interlopers had entered his world.

_And here, if anywhere, they will be able to return. _

He began to examine the area carefully. Fawkes arrived while he was working and perched in a nearby tree to shed some more mundane light on the place. At the end of an hour, he was ready to return to the castle.

_I know more than I did, but still not enough. Something seems to be blocking my spells, keeping them from working correctly..._

Fawkes shrilled, a sound Dumbledore seldom heard him make. It betokened surprise and possible fear, and very little frightened a phoenix. He turned slowly in a circle, looking for the cause of Fawkes' distress, and finally found it – a single, shining feather lying on the ground. As Dumbledore reached for it, it seemed to shrink, its outer edges shriveling away...

_Oh, no. Not if you are what I think you are. _

He quickly laid magical protections on the feather, binding it to stay in its current form. When that was done, he picked it carefully up and ran his finger along it. It was the feather of a phoenix, but Fawkes had not shed any feathers lately. And the fact of its beginning to dissolve, as Aletha had described herself and the others doing, made him think it was more likely than not from that other world from whence his visitors came.

_Let me see if I can find the way it came here. _

Fawkes fluttered to his shoulder and peered at the feather, then leaned down and took it in his beak.

"You wish to try?" asked Dumbledore, slightly surprised. He should not have been, he acknowledged. The phoenix was no coward. Indeed, it was quite possible that the other Dumbledore had asked his Fawkes to send the feather here through his fire-traveling magic. "Return quickly, please. I would be loath to lose your companionship."

Fawkes preened Dumbledore's hair briefly, then took flight and disappeared in a flash of fire. Dumbledore counted slowly, and as he came to fifteen, the flash reappeared, with two identical forms in it. Fawkes and another phoenix, like enough to be his twin, twined necks joyously before the other disappeared.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore, holding out his arm for the bird. "Communication has been established."

_Now to work out a way to send messages._

* * *

Draco Malfoy couldn't sleep.

It wasn't just the proximity to several much larger, meat-eating animals, though he supposed that was part of it. Nor was he having indigestion. That had been earlier, and he was not going to make the mistake of eating all of a human-sized box of popcorn again. His ferret host had been rather annoyed with him over that.

No, this was something else. Something to do with Black, as usual.

_Damn him. He wasn't happy with messing up my life once, or twice. No, he has to keep on doing it. _

Not that Draco hadn't enjoyed the afternoon and evening. On the contrary. He had enjoyed it, if anything, too much.

Their plans had changed after discovering a street festival on the way to the half-price ticket booth. The show could wait until the evening. They had attended two short open-air concerts, watched a magician – Draco had been astonished at what a Muggle could do without any real magic at all – and Black had even joined in an impromptu circle-dance near one of the street musicians playing.

From his place in the backpack, Draco had watched it all with a growing feeling of unreality – or perhaps it was the opposite. Perhaps, he thought, this was reality, and the world where he had grown up was the unreal one. Perhaps real life was filled with color and music and laughter, and this odd sensation inside him that he wasn't used to at all, but rather liked.

It took him a while to identify it. It was a curious mixture of lightness, as though his front half could float off the ground, and awareness of everything around him. All the lights were brighter, all the sounds clearer, and it wasn't all due to the ferret's keener senses. He could, Draco discovered, share Black's vision and hearing if he tried, and things looked the same way to him.

And there was a third aspect as well, one without any physical component as well. It was the feeling that nothing could daunt him, that he could conquer any obstacle, defeat any foe. He had urges to run out and join the dance himself, and was promptly horrified by them, but they had existed. He couldn't deny that.

It had taken Black's question, **Enjoying yourself?** to make him understand.

Because he had responded, quite without thinking, **Yes.**

It was happiness. He was happy.

_I am not supposed to be happy! My life is in shambles, I'll never get anywhere that I wanted to – I'm a flipping ferret! I can't be happy!_

But his emotions weren't listening. Argue against it as he might, Draco Malfoy was having fun.

Part of it, he knew, lay in the simple fact that no one could recognize him. No one here had ever heard of the house of Malfoy, or even knew that it existed. No one here would carry tales to his mother, and from there to his father. Nothing he did here would endanger his future. He had no need to be the perfect son of the perfect house. He could just... be.

Though it would have been nice if he could just be a human, he didn't really mind the ferret-shape all that much, truth be told. He could get a lot of places he couldn't as a human, and he didn't have to walk. Plus, Black hadn't twitted him on it once.

_Because he doesn't know about it. _

But he got the feeling Black wouldn't twit him on it much even if he did know. Maybe once, or twice, but then he'd let it drop. He seemed easygoing in many ways.

Which had brought up the question Draco had been wanting to ask, in one form or another, ever since he had discovered the strange voice in his mind.

**How did you end up with your Pack, anyway? I know that's what makes us so different, but how did it start?**

"Well, do you want the whole story?" They were sitting on a park bench, watching a bunch of kids playing on the grass.

**I guess.**

"All right."

It took quite a while to tell, and when Black was done, Draco wasn't sure what to feel, other than confused. **You were four?**

"I think I said that."

**But... didn't you want to stay? Didn't you understand that you were going to live with Mudbloods?**

"Watch your mouth, metaphorically speaking." Black tapped him lightly on the top of the head.

**Sorrrry.** Draco drawled out the word. **With _Muggleborns_, then?**

"No. Remember, for all I knew, Muggleborns wore skins and grunted a lot. I saw people, and what was more important to me then, I saw people who liked me. By the time I found out Letha and Danger and Neenie were Muggleborn, I was already learning that it didn't matter. Who their parents were didn't change what they could teach me, or how they played with me." Black looked into the distance. "Or how they loved me."

**You keep saying things like that. That they love you. That you love them. All I know about love is it makes people look silly and do hard things. **

Black laughed a little. "When you really love someone, you don't mind looking silly, or doing hard things, if it means they don't have to, or they'll get something out of it. And that's what a family does. A real family. They all do the hard things together, so no one has to do it alone."

_Gag me._ Draco tried a different angle of approach. **Do you have a girlfriend?**

"Not exactly. Do you?"

**You could say that. Pansy Parkinson, bless her pretty little hands. **

Black choked on spit. "_Parkinson?_ You go out with a pug dog?"

**Oy! She does not look like a pug dog!**

"Oh, dragon dung. If she looked any more like a pug dog, you'd have to keep her on a lead." Black raised his eyebrows. "Might not be a bad idea anyway."

Draco grumbled. **Well, who do you go out with?**

"I don't go out with anyone. But I do have a prospective mate."

**Well, excuuuuuuse me. Who might that be?**

"Her name is Luna."

It was Draco's turn to choke. **Luna? You mean _Lovegood?_ That nutty Ravenclaw who wears radishes for earrings and a necklace made of butterbeer caps?**

"Well, she's a Gryffindor in my universe, but other than that, yes, that sounds like her."

_**Why?**_

Black's face took on a distinctly dreamy look, not unlike Lovegood's. "Because she's beautiful, and understanding, and smart, and she listens very well. She plays the piano wonderfully, she dances like an angel, and she can beat me up seven times out of ten."

**Do I even want to know how you know that last one?**

"Get your mind out of the gutter. We do self-defense practice a lot. She can sing, too. Misses her cue sometimes, but when she's got her mind on it, she's great."

**Oh, I'm sure. **Draco considered whether or not he really wanted to ask the next question on his mind, but it slipped out anyway. **Why do you call her your... whatever-it-was mate and not your girlfriend?**

"Because words are powerful. If I call her my girlfriend, I'll treat her that way, like something I can trade in and replace if it doesn't work out. But that's not how either of us thinks of it. We're prospective mates. When we're old enough, we'll mate-bond and have cubs of our own."

**You mean you'll get married and have kids. **

"That too."

Draco thumped his head gently against the wood of the bench. **And has it occurred to either of you that this is not normal?**

"Why should that matter?"

_I think I see another reason he likes Lovegood._ **How long have you been... perspective mates?**

"Prospective, not perspective. And I'm not positive. We've known each other since I was seven and she was six, and we've liked each other a lot ever since then. I don't know when we realized we'd be mates someday. I guess it just kind of happened."

That conversation, luckily for Draco's blood sugar level, had died a natural death right there. They'd found other things to keep themselves entertained for the rest of the afternoon, eaten dinner at a small restaurant with open-air seating, and then headed for the theater.

The show had been amazing to Draco. The sets were astounding in themselves. Just thinking of all the work that had to be done, by hand, since of course Muggles didn't have magic, made his head spin like the stage. The dancing made him stare. He hadn't known people could do things like that with their bodies. But the singing, and the music...

_Why didn't I ever know about this before?_

He felt as if he could gladly have stayed in the theater forever.

In Act Two, Black suddenly straightened in his seat. **Listen to this one, **he commanded. **This is my favorite song in this whole show.**

Draco listened. The singer was an older man, who had just discovered that his foster daughter was in love. He was pleading with God to save the young man she loved from the dangerous situation they were both in. It didn't matter if he died himself, the man sang. Only let the young man return.

"Bring Him Home."

Draco touched Black's mind as he listened, and felt it full of that strange emotion he knew was called love. Black understood the song. He had people he would sing it for, if he had to. People whose lives he would value above his own. People who valued his life above their own.

_And I don't. _

_I don't have anyone like that. _

The scenes changed. Soon they were in the sewers, where a thief was stripping corpses of their jewelry and singing about how the world was a dangerous place, where you had to either eat or be eaten, how there was no other choice, and no reason to try anything else. Draco felt sick.

_I don't like this so much anymore. _

_Not since I started hearing my father in what this bloke has to say. _

He watched the end of the show in a kind of fog.

_Is that all I'd be, if I joined the Death Eaters? A sewer rat? _

He thought of all the life he'd seen that day, all the happiness, including what he'd felt himself.

_But if the Dark Lord wins, there won't be any more of that. _

_Do I really want to fight against it?_

It wasn't a question he was ready to answer just yet.

He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to answer it.

* * *

Sirius Black was confused.

He'd been having a very odd dream, in which he was hiding behind boulders and pillars of rock, watching Aletha Freeman walk along a mountain path, her gaze alert as though she searched for someone. Whoever it was, she was obviously looking forward to meeting them, but also hoping to show to advantage in their eyes. She was dressed beautifully and moving with the elegance of a queen.

Which was why it had been such a shock to watch her slip and fall on her rear in a large patch of mud.

He had been about to emerge from his hiding place and offer to help her up, when he had heard someone – a man – laughing. And something about the laugh had been familiar.

Aletha's head had turned toward the laughter. "Did you do this?" she had shouted, sounding understandably angry, but also amused. "Come out and face the music!"

The laugher had jumped down onto the path near her – he must also have been hiding in the rocks – and Sirius had stared doubly.

It was him.

_But it can't be me. I'm up here. _

So it was somebody who looked like him.

And laughed like him.

And yelped like him, when Aletha got him in the chest with a handful of mud.

"That's for you, Sirius Black!" she scolded.

_He's got my name, too. _

"Now get over here and help me up, you big lout!"

"Help you up? Sure." The man had walked over and leaned down, offering her his hand. Sirius had sworn under his breath. _Don't be stupid, she's going to try something..._

Sure enough, Aletha had yanked on the hand, intending to pull the man down into the mud with her, and it had worked, but not quite as she intended. Instead of falling on his face, he went to his knees, slid his other arm around her, and pulled her in for a kiss, disregarding the mud speckled on both their faces.

_Well, maybe it did work the way she wanted it to._

After that, they'd had a mud fight, plastering each other until they were a uniform shade of dirt-brown, dumping loads of muck onto each other's heads, and squealing like a pair of kids. When they were finished, they'd found a pond and washed up, and then gone down the path together, telling stupid stories and laughing over them like good friends reunited after a separation.

_Or like more than friends. _The way they were holding hands certainly looked like that. And the way they were kissing every now and again...

Curious, Sirius had trailed them, and suddenly found himself in his bedroom at the cottage, aware but unable to control his body. Someone else was in charge of it. He was just a passenger.

_Why does this not bother me? I ought to fight, I ought to do something... am I under Imperius?_

But he had a strong sense that whatever was happening was for the good, and interference would not be wise or appreciated.

_Of course, I'd feel that way under Imperius too. _

Still, he allowed whoever was guiding him to walk out to the living room of the cottage, where three mattresses had been set up. Hermione and Meghan slept on two of them, seemingly undisturbed by his arrival. Aletha's eyes opened as he entered the room, and she hurried across to the back door and opened it. Someone standing just outside the door handed her something, and as she came back in, Sirius saw that it was a lead, attached to the collar of a large black dog, which looked rather like he did when he transformed into Padfoot.

Aletha led the dog across the room to him and had it sit in front of him. Sirius felt his knees bending as he went down on one knee and looked into the animal's eyes. There was the sensation of hearing a conversation too far away to catch any of the words, only being able to make out that two voices were involved, and then his right hand rose and laid itself on the dog's head, while he held eye contact with it for a long while...

Sirius swayed, and caught himself with his left hand. His eyes were watering from being open too long. He blinked several times, trying to clear the tears away, and then realized that Aletha was beside him, helping him stand up. "Are you all right?" she asked quietly.

Sirius took stock. He was a little dizzy, but otherwise seemed unharmed. "Yes. What happened?"

"I think you were sleepwalking. Have you ever done that before?"

"No. Was there a dog in here?"

Aletha frowned. "No, there's no dog in here. Why?"

Sirius shook his head. "Never mind. I'd better go back to bed."

"Good night, then."

"Good night."

As he returned to his bedroom, Sirius felt strangely empty inside, as though something hadn't happened that he'd been expecting. It was just on the edge of sleep that he noticed the strange little voice in the back of his head was gone.

_Hardly a loss. _

He fell asleep again, and this time had no dreams that he could recall, waking up in the morning refreshed and perfectly willing to dismiss what had happened the night before as a bad dream or a bout of sleepwalking. Losing one's magic, and then finding out that one ought to have lost one's soul, could certainly be grounds for much worse things than sleepwalking, he thought.

Someone tapped on his door.

"Come in."

Remus opened the door. "I need your help with something," he said, his face very carefully emotionless.

"What?"

"I need you to look in the living room and tell me what you see."

Sirius suddenly identified the lack of emotion on Remus' face as that of a man who doubts his own sanity. Emmeline stood in the corridor behind Remus, Sirius saw as he got up, looking openly bewildered.

Sirius walked into the living room and stopped dead.

The mattresses containing the three guests to the cottage were where they had been. Hermione looked as she had the night before. She was the only one who did.

Between Aletha and Meghan slept a huge black dog, the twin in every way of the one Sirius had "dreamed" of seeing the night before. Meghan was snuggled up to it on one side, and Aletha had her arm over it on the other. Sirius wondered if she would wake up with a mouthful of fur.

But by far the most impressive additions to the living room were by the fireplace. Closest to it lay a magnificent male lion, with a calico cat curled up between his front paws. A grey wolf had its head pillowed on one of those paws, and a brown-haired boy of about Harry's age was asleep against the lion's shoulder.

Sirius opened his mouth, knowing what was about to come out would be stupid and obvious.

"There's a lion in the living room."

"All right," said Remus resignedly. "So we're not crazy."

"No, just confused," said Sirius. "How did they all get in here? And who's he?" He pointed at the boy. "I've never seen him before, and I thought I'd seen all the kids in Harry's year."

"He might be foreign," said Emmeline. "Or home-schooled."

"We can at least find out his name," said Remus. He walked quietly over to the boy, drew his wand, and performed a forensics spell on him.

The hologram which formed was blurred and hard to read. Remus frowned and tried again.

Sirius stared. The second hologram was not hard to read. Just hard to believe.

Harry emerged from his bedroom, putting on his glasses. "What's going..." He trailed off, staring across the room at the animal-human tableau, and the hologram hovering above the sleeping boy.

_Malfoy, Draco Regulus_

_Aged: 16 years_

_**Son of Known Death Eater**_

"What is _he_ doing here?" said Harry loudly, waking most of the people in the living room.

Remus backed away hastily as the lion yawned prodigiously. The wolf nestled closer to the lion, making little whining noises that, if it had been human, would have been the words "Five more minutes?" The cat arched its back and sharpened its claws on the carpet, then daintily picked its way out between the lion's paws and froze, staring at the hologram above Malfoy. Its ears went back, and it hissed.

"Oh, bother," said a tired voice from the other side of the room. Aletha, too, was looking with distaste at the hologram. "Those things are based on the body, aren't they? I mean, you can use them to identify the dead?"

"Yes, of course," said Sirius, a bit surprised. All the Healers he knew understood forensic spells.

"Neenie, settle down," Aletha said to the cat. "A name can't hurt anyone."

The cat spat once more in the direction of the hologram before settling down on the carpet to wash.

"Why do you ask?" inquired Remus. "And would you happen to be involved with this little... invasion?"

Aletha rubbed her eyes. Sirius saw that they were ever so slightly bloodshot, and half-lidded, as though she hadn't slept well. "Can this wait until after breakfast, perchance? It's a very long story."

"Well, that depends on what he wants for breakfast," said Emmeline, indicating the lion, who had raised his head slightly and was looking around at everyone.

"He's not about to eat any of you, if that's what you're worried about. There's game in the forest around here, if you don't mind him hunting," Aletha said to Remus, as Hermione sat up, looking around in amazement.

"Oh, not at all. Not at all. I adore having big cats run around on my property. And his little wolfy friend too. Do any of them have names?"

"Yes. But that's also part of the story."

"Of course it is." Remus ended the forensics spell as Malfoy sat up, yawning. "This had better be one hell of a story."

He flicked his wand once more at the boy now rolling his shoulders back, revealing his pale-blond hair. Hermione's eyes had widened enormously at the sight of the lion; on seeing Malfoy, she let out a little hiss of distaste, and Sirius thought suddenly how like the cat she looked.

"What're _you_ doing here?" asked Harry, his voice full of challenge.

"Harry," said Remus reprovingly. "He's a guest."

"He's no guest. Guests are invited. He's a bloody gate-crasher."

"Language," said Sirius.

"Don't scold him in front of everyone," said Aletha, standing up.

"I'll scold him anywhere I want to! He's my godson, and the last time I checked, you only met him yesterday!"

"That's what you think!"

"Yes, that is what I think! If I'm wrong, why don't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry we barged in like this," said Malfoy, standing up. "We can leave any time, if you need us to."

"Perfect." Harry jerked his thumb at the door. "How about now?"

"Fine with me." Malfoy picked up a backpack lying against the hearth.

"But it's not fine with us," said Sirius after a quick glance at Remus. "We'd like to know what's going on here. We heard you were mad."

A smile flickered on Malfoy's lips. "It's been... dealt with."

A chittering noise came from inside the backpack. Malfoy frowned, and it abruptly ceased.

Meghan, who had been sitting on her mattress petting the dog sitting beside it, now stood up and walked over to Malfoy, looking him in the eye calmly. "Hug me now if you're leaving," she commanded. "I missed you."

"I know, Pearl. I missed you too." Malfoy set the backpack carefully aside and hugged the girl tightly. "We'll go home soon, and everything will be all right again, and we can do this as often as we want."

"Liar."

"Well, as long as you know that."

"It may not be a lie," said a new voice. Sirius moved hastily aside to make room for Albus Dumbledore. "I wonder if I could prevail upon you, friends, to donate a certain memory to a magical project I am trying to make happen."

"Which memory, sir?" asked Malfoy, standing at what looked rather like attention before the Headmaster.

"The night certain talismans of yours were created. It has been suggested to me that recovering them might be a first step towards returning you to your home."

"Returning him home isn't so hard," said Sirius. "I know where Malfoy Manor is."

Dumbledore turned to face him. "The problem being, Sirius, that this young man does not live there. I take it explanations have not been given," he said to Aletha.

"I was hoping it could wait until after breakfast, but I guess I'd better do the quick and dirty version right now." Aletha sat back down on her mattress. "Get comfortable," she told everyone. "Even the quick version will take some time."

Sirius sat down in his favorite chair, Harry on the floor beside him, while Remus and Emmeline took the sofa. Dumbledore took another chair, and Malfoy and Meghan sat down side by side, backs to the wall.

"Have you all heard of the idea of parallel universes?" asked Aletha. "Worlds existing alongside this one, where things happened a little or a lot differently?"

Heads nodded all around.

"It's true. We come from one. We being my family and I. There are eight of us. Four adults, four children. Five of us had counterparts – people very like us in face and form and, in most cases, behavior – in this universe. Three of us did not. This wouldn't have mattered, except that we also have powerful enemies, and one of them managed to break the barriers between worlds and leave us here to die. Or, in the case of those with counterparts, to become part of them."

Aletha looked at Sirius. "You can't tell me you haven't heard a voice inside your head lately. Making little comments, noticing things. Especially things about me."

Sirius nodded slowly.

"And Hermione. That episode you had yesterday was related to this. Your counterpart, inside your mind, trying to hold onto herself."

Hermione looked very unhappy with this. "Is she... still in there?"

The calico cat on the rug sat up and yowled slightly, drawing the girl's attention, then shook her head an emphatic no.

Hermione gasped. "She talks!"

"Only you can hear her," said Malfoy. "That's how it works."

"Is that why people thought you were mad?" asked Remus. "Because you had your counterpart in your head, and you told people about it?"

Malfoy snickered. "Actually, no," he said. "_I_ was the voice in _his_ head. Draco Black, pleased to meet you, sir."

"Draco Black?" repeated Emmeline.

"To honor my mother," said the boy. "It was her maiden name. Draco Malfoy's here, with me, but I doubt he'll be coming out. He's borrowing an animal body, like everyone else."

"Even us," said Meghan. "I was a deer, and Mum was a flying horse. Dadfoot borrowed your body," she said to Sirius. "When you lost your magic, it separated you. He still had his magic, so he borrowed your body and came to Hogwarts to turn us human, so we could help find everyone and get together again."

Several questions jostled Sirius for room. He opened his mouth and let one of them, he wasn't sure which, come out.

"Dadfoot?"

"Come now, Sirius," said Dumbledore, smiling at Meghan, "have you not noticed the young lady's eyes?"

_Her eyes?_ Sirius looked, then stared. _Great Merlin – they look just like – _

**Mine,** said a familiar voice in Sirius' head. He turned, with a weary certainty, to look at the large black dog sitting beside Aletha. It winked at him. **Sorry to harass you, but you'd have done the same. **

"So you're my counterpart?"

**Afraid so. **

"Are you why I was dreaming about her?" Sirius let his eyes rest on Aletha for a moment.

**Yep. We've been married a while. As you can probably tell, since Meghan's thirteen. **

"You're Danger, aren't you," said Emmeline to the wolf, who nodded politely to her. "And that means he's..."

Remus' eyebrows went up. "I suppose I never thought of myself as the lion type," he said with just a trace of a shake in his voice. "Oh really? You didn't either? That's interesting."

"Hold on," said Harry loudly, over everyone else. "Madam Freeman. You said there were eight of you?"

Aletha nodded.

"One, two," said Harry, pointing at Meghan and her companion – _might as well call him Black, it seems to be his name._ "Three." The calico cat on the rug, now washing her tail. "Four, five." The lion and the wolf. "Six, seven." Aletha and the dog. "Where's the eighth?"

Everything went very quiet. Sirius looked at Dumbledore, and found him looking at Harry. So were all the animals, and Aletha and Meghan, and Black. So was Hermione, and Remus and Emmeline. And so, as the truth hit him, was Sirius.

_The only person powerful enough to break through the walls between universes would be Voldemort. And the only person he'd be likely to use that power on would be..._

Harry's eyes widened as it dawned on him. "Oh, no. No. No bloody way."

"Yes bloody way," drawled Black. "Like it or not, back where I come from, I call a prat who looks a lot like you my brother."

Harry blanched, took one appalled look around the room, and turned and ran, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

Sirius didn't blame him at all.

* * *

(A/N: Well, I wasn't sure about this chapter, but I think it'll work OK. What do you think? How did it work for you? Best way to let me know is to click that little purple button... second best is to go to the Yahoo group... a distant last is to yell so loud I can hear you from wherever you are. I don't really think that'll work too well.) 


	8. Eight

(A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Michelle (Neurotica), with the hope that her surgery went well.)

* * *

Harry snatched his wand from where it was lying on the dresser and locked his door. It wouldn't hold against someone else with a wand, or even a determined person without one, but it would slow people down some.

He grabbed a pillow, threw it into the air with his left hand, and brought his wand up with his right, shouting, "_Reducto!_"

The pillow exploded, raining feathers everywhere. Harry repeated this process on his other pillow, then aimed a "_Diffindo!_" at his mattress, laying a gash open in it, and started ripping out handfuls of stuffing.

He knew he was being childish, but he didn't care. As long as he could destroy things, he didn't have to think about what had just happened.

And then, of course, by not thinking about it, he was thinking about it.

_I am NOT Malfoy's brother. I never was. I never will be. He's a double-dyed pureblood bastard, and I hate his bloody guts. He's insulted me and Sirius and Remus, and Ron and the Weasleys, and Hermione and her family, more times than I can count. If he's not already a Death Eater, he's probably counting the days. _

_The only reason he'd say something that crazy is if he really is mad. Or if he's on some kind of mission for the Death Eaters, trying to get in here so he can kill me, or someone else, or capture us. _

He stopped, one hand full of mattress stuffing.

_Or he could be telling the truth. _

Remus had taught him, long ago, about the three choices when someone said something hard to believe. Either that person was crazy, a liar, or telling the truth. It was up to the listeners to decide which one.

Harry growled and returned to ripping up his mattress. _There's no way that can be true. It's bloody insane. How could there be another world? Another Malfoy? Another me?_

The mattress was now thoroughly gutted. The room looked as if a sheep or two, and several chickens, had wandered through and been badly scared, causing them to shed and/or molt all at the same time. Harry, his energy sapped for the moment, sat down limply in the middle of what had been his bed.

It was there that a little piece of memory found its way into the front of his brain.

Malfoy hadn't told the story. Madam Freeman had.

_So she's in with him too. _

But Madam Freeman was a member of the Order. A new member, but a member, who could find her way to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. And that meant Dumbledore trusted her.

_So? Maybe Dumbledore's wrong. Maybe he missed something. _

But that was stupid. Dumbledore wouldn't miss something as obvious as a person being supportive of the Death Eaters when he was checking on them. He wouldn't let anyone within a mile of Grimmauld Place who couldn't be trusted, and he certainly wouldn't sign up anyone who was crazy.

So that left the last option, and the one least to Harry's taste.

The story was true.

Someone tapped on his door.

"What?"

"It's me, Harry," said Hermione's voice. "May I come in?"

Harry sighed. "Hold on." He picked up his wand and unlocked the door. "It's open."

The door swung open. The calico cat bounded delicately inside, checking as it saw the devastation within. Hermione, on its heels, looked nearly as shocked. "What did you _do?_"

"Ripped things up," said Harry in a monotone. "If you're going to yell at me, you might as well leave."

"I'm not." Hermione shut the door behind herself, went over to a chair, and brushed off the feathers and stuffing covering the seat. The cat chased after the feathers as they floated to the ground, pouncing on them and batting them here and there with its forepaws, and Harry smiled a little without meaning to.

"So why are you here?" he asked finally, when the cat tired of its game and found a clear spot on the carpet to curl up in.

"I thought you might need someone to talk to."

"Maybe." Harry was still watching the cat, who was kneading his carpet with its claws. He suddenly felt suspicious. "Is that a person?" he demanded, pointing at the cat.

"Yes, she is. She says we can call her Neenie."

"She's you, isn't she?"

"No. Not really." Hermione picked up a piece of stuffing and began playing with it. "Harry, they explained it to us, a little bit, after you left. Do you want me to try to explain it to you?"

"Go ahead," said Harry. "You can't possibly confuse me any more than I already am."

Hermione smiled slightly. "All right. In the first place, they never asked for this, any more than we did. And they want nothing more than to get this over with and go home. So that's something we have in common."

Harry nodded firmly.

"In the second place, they're _not_ us. They're a lot like us, but we're not the same. We've had different things happen to us, and at different times."

"Like what?"

Hermione looked down at the floor. "Neenie never knew her parents," she said quietly. "They died when she was a baby. She grew up with her older sister and her husband, and their two best friends."

"OK." Harry looked again at the cat. It looked back at him, directness stopping just short of being challenging in its gaze. "But her name is Hermione Granger, isn't it?"

"Mmmm... yes, she says, yes, it is."

"And if she was human, she'd look like you."

"Mostly. She's showed me some of her memories, and we look a little different, but not much." Hermione shifted in her chair. "Harry, there's something about all this you need to understand."

"What's that?"

"Of everyone who had a counterpart – that's Sirius, Remus, you, me, and Draco–"

Harry rounded on her. "Since when d'you call him by his first name?"

"There's no need to shout at me!"

"Yes, there is! You're forgetting everything he's ever done to us! He's Lucius Malfoy's son, Hermione! All he's ever wanted to be is a Death Eater! Trusting him is like trusting a dragon! For all we know, he's already told his father all about us, and there's Death Eaters in the woods right now, just waiting for his signal!"

Hermione shot to her feet. "Will you shut up and listen to me!"

"I will, once you start making sense!"

"I am making sense, if you'd just listen!"

Harry took another breath, then stopped himself and let it slowly out. "All right," he said with exaggerated calm. "All right. I'm listening. Look how nicely I'm listening. Go right ahead."

"Thank you," said Hermione with equally exaggerated politeness, sitting down again. "Harry, you weren't listening earlier. That's not Draco Malfoy out there. It's his body, but it's not his mind or his soul inside it. His mind and soul are inside an animal body, like Neenie's are."

Harry took a moment to sort this out. "How did that happen?"

"The person who is using that body worked the magic to make it happen. He won't tell us what kind of animal it is, I think it must be embarrassing to Malfoy somehow..."

"Probably a ferret," said Harry with a grin. "So if it's not Malfoy, who is it?"

"You really weren't listening. His name is Draco Black. He's Draco Malfoy's counterpart, but they're really different. They're the most different of any of the pairs."

"Let me guess. He was Draco Malfoy once, but he's changed?"

Hermione nodded.

Harry snorted, disgusted. "Hermione, I thought you were smarter than this. Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy. He can't have changed that much."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I _thought _you were going to listen to me."

"Fine, fine, all right."

"Draco Black spent less time with the Malfoys than you did with the Dursleys, Harry. He was adopted when he was four, and he never went back. He grew up in a decent house, with parents who cared about him, and other children around."

"Like who?"

"Like Neenie. And like the other Harry. And that's part of what I was trying to tell you."

"So what are you trying to tell me?"

"Harry, out of everyone who had their counterparts in their minds, you and the other world's Harry are the most alike. Both of you care about Sirius and Remus, and about me and Ron and Ginny, and you both have to fight Voldemort and try to save the world."

Harry fidgeted. He didn't like thinking about another him, as though he weren't the only one there was. "So what?"

"So the biggest difference between you is that when you look at Draco, you see an enemy. He sees a friend. A brother."

"Good."

"No, not good!"

"Yes good! There need to be some differences between us!"

"Why?"

Harry stared at her. Didn't she understand anything? "Because... just because!"

"Harry, you don't understand. Your counterpart – the other Harry – he's inside your mind, right now, and if he stays there much longer, he'll be assimilated into you. There won't be anything left of him. Someone already tried to find him, and couldn't."

Harry felt his face heating up. "So now there's people poking around in my head? Without even bothering to _ask?_"

"It's not like that! She wasn't looking at anything, it's not like she was trying to get at your memories or change you–"

"How do you know that? How do you know anything? How do you know _she_ isn't lying?"

"Because she's Neenie's sister, and she cares about you!"

"No, she cares about the other me. She probably doesn't give a rat's arse about me. The real me. The real Harry Potter." Harry jerked his head around to glare at the cat. "You can tell her from me," he said savagely, "to bloody well stay out of my head. All the time, from now on. And that goes for everyone. Now get out." He pointed at the door.

The cat got up and took its leave, pausing after every few steps to shake feathers from its paws.

"Harry, if you'd just listen–"

Harry spun back to face Hermione. "No. I'm sick of listening. You listen for once. You want to believe these people and play their stupid game, that's fine. But don't ask me to. And when it blows up in your face like a Dungbomb, don't expect me to help. It's your problem, and your worry." He looked around the room. "I have to clean up in here. Excuse me?"

Hermione got to her feet again. "I'll go," she said. "But after I tell you one more thing."

Harry shook his head hard. "No. No 'one more thing', Hermione. Your 'one more thing' always turns into ten more things, and nine of them are scolds. I'm really sick of you scolding me. It's not your job. Now would you please leave? Please?"

Hermione left. Harry slumped on the ruins of his bed, feeling more tired than he usually did at the end of the day.

_I'd give anything if none of this had ever happened..._

* * *

"I'm sorry," said Hermione quietly to the cat waiting outside the door. "I tried." 

**I know you did. He's awfully pig-headed sometimes, isn't he?**

"Oh, yes." Hermione tried to smile, but her heart wasn't in it, as she thought of what she should have said.

"_That other boy inside your head is a person, Harry. Just as much a person as you. If you don't help get him free – if you let the assimilation finish – you'll have killed him. And without him to help them work the magic, I don't think his family can ever go home."_

**We can try,** said Neenie. **And we will try. **

But something in her tone told Hermione she knew trying wouldn't be much good.

* * *

Neenie watched her counterpart walk away, headed not even she knew where. 

_I hope she'll be all right. I can't imagine losing even one of the Pack-parents – and that would still leave three. She only had two, and she lost them both at once..._

_But if we can't go home, what will happen to us? How long can we stay here, like this, without losing ourselves in the animals, the way we almost did in the others? _

She had wandered back into the living room without realizing it. Moony was lying near the fireplace in the library lion pose, his tail twitching slightly, the only sign that he was not a very lifelike sculpture. Neenie trotted around to where he could see her and voiced her feelings in a small, plaintive mew.

Moony sighed, then stood up and stretched slightly. He bent his head down and picked her up from the ground, his jaws closing delicately around her. Neenie went limp in his hold as he carried her toward the door, which he pushed open with a paw.

The sun was warm in the grassy area around the house. Moony chose a spot far enough away that they would not be disturbed, then set her gently on her four paws and lay down next to her. She curled up against him and began to purr, trying to cheer herself with the sound. Although lions couldn't purr as such, Moony allowed his breathing to be ruled by hers, until they were inhaling and exhaling to the same rhythm. It was peaceful, familiar, comforting...

The scream of a hawk brought her upright in a flash. Joyously she searched the skies, until she remembered that she was far from home, and no hawk here called for her.

Gently, Moony pulled her back to his side with a paw, and let her bury her face in his mane and make the only sound that properly deserved the name "caterwaul".

_I want to go home._

* * *

After Harry's precipitous retreat, Dumbledore had gone into a quiet colloquy with several of the animals and humans crowding the living room. Sirius had headed for the kitchen, muttering something along the lines of "visitors from another world or not, we have to eat". Remus and Emmeline had been left to their own devices. 

Remus had wanted nothing more than a little peace and quiet. And to ask Emmeline a question.

"How did you know her name?" he asked when they were back in his bedroom.

"Whose?"

"Don't play stupid, please. The wolf. Danger, you called her?"

"Yes. She visited me in a dream. She was human there, but she told me she was with the wolves in the Forest at Hogwarts."

"What did she look like?" Remus had a suspicion, but he wanted it confirmed.

"Like a grown-up Hermione. Our age, or thereabouts. Why?"

Remus sat down on the bed, shaking his head. "I dreamed of her," he said. "I suppose it was him dreaming of her, really, but I remember it. Did she tell you anything about... them?"

Emmeline nodded, sitting down beside him. "They're married, and have been for a long time. Hermione – Neenie, their Hermione – is their ward. I saw..." She stopped.

"What?"

"She showed me a memory of hers. A piece out of their lives. They looked so happy, Remus. They've loved each other for so long that they take it for granted – but they don't. Can you take something for granted without losing your appreciation for it? They expect each other to be there, but they don't forget to be grateful for it..." She looked up from the floor, her eyes bright. "I want to have that with you."

_Well, that's a different place than I expected that little speech to go. _

"I'd like to have it with you too," Remus admitted. "Very much. And..."

_Oh, what the hell. We both know it'd get here eventually. It might as well be now. _"This is probably the wrong time to ask you this, and I'm horribly underprepared, but I hope you'll take the thought for the deed." He slid off the bed and went to one knee at her feet. "Emmeline Vance, will you marry me?"

* * *

Sirius, in the kitchen, dropped an egg at the shriek that emerged from Remus' bedroom. 

**Got it,** said a voice beside him, making him jump again. He looked down. The black dog was offering him the egg, slightly slobbery but unbroken.

"Thank you," said Sirius, accepting the egg and going to the sink to rinse it off.

**Any idea what that's about?**

"Nope. I'll probably find out eventually, though. Nothing in this house stays a secret for long."

**Tell me about it...**

* * *

Somewhat later in the morning, breakfast had been finished and the dishes washed. The lion and the wolf had returned from hunting, Remus and Emmeline had emerged, and everyone in the house, except Harry, was gathered once more in the living room to talk. Draco sat cross-legged between lion and wolf, with the cat in his lap, her paw on his arm and her tail gently held under one of the wolf's paws. Meghan had one arm around the dog's neck. 

"We need something to call you all," said Sirius, looking around at the animals. "Something that won't make the rest of us wonder who it is."

"Really, we only need two," said Remus. "And couldn't we just use Padfoot and Moony for them, and our proper names for us?"

The dog snorted, as if protesting being relegated to a mere nickname. The lion yawned ostentatiously, and the dog fell silent.

"All right, then," said Sirius. "So you're Padfoot and Moony, Danger and Neenie." He pointed in turn to dog, lion, wolf, and cat.

"We should also have something to call your Harry by," put in Emmeline. "Even if he's not here in his own person right now, eventually he will be, and we're going to be talking about him as well."

"Wolf," said Draco. "We can call him Wolf."

"Why Wolf?" asked Remus.

"It's his Animagus form."

"So, with that being settled," said Dumbledore, in his polite way taking charge of the group, "I have several topics which I think should be discussed. First, restoring your lost items to you."

Draco held up his hand. "Moony doesn't think we should try to do the full group without Harry," he said politely. "He doesn't think it would work properly. It would be off balance."

"What do you suggest, then?" Dumbledore asked.

Draco paused for a moment, as if listening. "Just the adults," he said finally. "They're balanced, two and two, and it's possible you could even get the full set with just their memories. We were only ten when it happened."

About to ask, Sirius bit his tongue. **When what happened?** he asked Padfoot silently instead.

**You're learning,** said Padfoot approvingly. **We created magical necklaces that we always wear, that tell us if the other people wearing them are in need of help. Even if they don't give us any actual magical help in this situation, it would be one more way for us to feel more like ourselves again. Like getting my wand back. **

**Your wand back?**

Padfoot displayed the appropriate memory, of a man and a woman sitting on a couch together, the woman handing the man a long, thin cylinder of mahogany.

**Hey, me too!** Sirius brought up his memory of Dumbledore returning his mahogany wand to him, in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. Just for fun, he rewound the memory slightly and let it play. **Watch this.**

**McGonagall hugged you? **Padfoot chuckled. **I wish. Have a look how she found out about me.**

Sirius nearly choked holding in his laughter. **Lucky bastard,** he said mournfully. **I've always secretly wanted to chase her up a tree. **

**Well, what about the time... whoops. I'm needed. And you might want to watch this. **

Sirius brought his attention back to his physical surroundings. From somewhere, Dumbledore had produced his Pensieve, and was placing eight small chunks of metal inside it. They were a dull grey and seemed heavy for their size.

"Is that lead?" asked Hermione, leaning forward.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, sounding quite pleased that she had recognized it. "Yes, it is indeed lead."

He removed two bottles from his pockets. The first was filled with fine dust, which he poured over the lumps of lead. The second held a red liquid, which he also poured into the Pensieve, then traced a circular motion over its surface with his wand, causing it to stir. "And now the memories, if you would, friends," he said. "Think hard of that night, and what you did."

Moony presented his head first, then Danger, then Padfoot. Aletha withdrew her own memory and added it to the swirling mass in the Pensieve, which had managed to mingle red and white without turning pink. Sirius would have loved to know how that was possible, but it was.

Dumbledore nodded to Moony.

**Don't yell,** Padfoot advised. **He has wandless fire magic.**

Thus pre-warned, Sirius kept from yelping in surprise when the carpet under the Pensieve caught fire. Remus must have been warned as well, as he had whispered something into Emmeline's ear just before the fire erupted, and neither of them had shown outward signs of startlement. Hermione gasped a little, but more as though the fire were expected but still disturbing.

**So does having fire magic mean he can mend that big burned spot on the carpet? **Sirius asked.

**No, it means there won't be any big burned spot. The fire's burning air only, nothing else. It won't hurt anything. **

**Handy.**

**Oh, you have no idea. He's got amazing control, too. Remind me to tell you the target-practice story. **

Dumbledore pointed his wand at the Pensieve turned cauldron and began to chant quietly, his words rising and falling hypnotically. Meghan had come around to sit next to Draco and was leaning against him, his arm around her, both of them craning their necks in fascination. Sirius wasn't ashamed to admit he was fascinated himself. What would these things look like?

He jerked back and Emmeline gasped as a small fireball erupted in the Pensieve itself.

**Don't worry, that's normal, **said Padfoot quickly. **Any second now, we ought to see... ah, yes!**

Sirius fanned the smoke away from his eyes and looked. A tangle of bright gold chains and medallions met his eyes. The liquid, the lead, and the dust were all gone.

"Your memories should be bound into your pendants," said Dumbledore, looking very pleased with himself. "And I see we have indeed managed to restore all eight, instead of only four."

Draco, Meghan, and Aletha were busy for a few moments sorting out which set belonged to whom. Sirius watched interestedly as the chains stretched to fit over the heads of the animals, then shortened up so as not to drag on the ground. Finally, Draco held only one chain in his hands. Sirius saw a cloud pass over his features, making him look, for one moment, like Draco Malfoy, and he crumpled the chain in his hand and turned away, going back to his place next to Meghan and Neenie.

**What's wrong?**

Padfoot didn't answer for a moment. **Those are Harry's,** he said finally. **Our Harry's. Wolf, we were going to call him, weren't we? Whatever. They belong to him. **

Sirius winced. **I'm sorry. **

**It's not your fault. Your Harry's a normal teenage boy. Scared stiff by this. Nothing wrong with that. **

There might be nothing wrong with it, but Sirius felt vaguely insulted. **And just whose Harry is dominant here?** he asked. **Whose godson is the boss in his own mind? **

**Oh, yeah, I'd be so proud,** sneered Padfoot. **If my Wolf were murdering someone else's child by being a spoiled brat who can't handle anything outside his own experience. **

That did it. Counterpart or not, there was only so much Sirius would take on the subject of Harry. He stood up, crossed the room, and kicked Padfoot hard in the side.

Padfoot leapt on him, snarling. Sirius fought back, kicking and punching, trying to keep the dog's jaws away from his throat... he knew, too well, what they could do if they got close enough...

A spell struck them both, separating them and throwing them away from each other, across the room. Dumbledore frowned at them. "I would like an explanation," he said precisely, the twinkle in his eyes gone. "_Now._"

Padfoot licked a sore spot on his side. **I never thought I'd be glad not to be able to speak aloud. It's all yours.**

Sirius made a rude gesture in his counterpart's direction and gave Dumbledore a short, rather halting explanation.

Aletha raised an eyebrow at Remus and Emmeline. "I'm beginning to see why counterparts shouldn't be together a lot," she said. "If you thought too much of a _good_ thing was bad..."

The rest of the room thought this was rather funny.

Dumbledore sighed. "I understand that the topic of Harry may be a touchy one at the moment," he said. "Nonetheless, I would ask you – all of you – to refrain from further fights or quarrels. There are more serious aspects of this world-to-world transference. I have been able to confer with my own counterpart, who remains in his own world, from whence you came," he bowed slightly to Danger and Moony, "and the results to both our tests show an alarming trend. As a direct result of this incident, magic in both worlds is beginning to degrade."

"Degrade?" asked Remus, coming to full attention immediately. "How do you mean?"

"Small spells, at the moment, seem the most likely to go wrong. They do not work, or do not work correctly. Only wanded magic seems affected. Apparition and Animagus transformations, for instance, are as reliable as they have ever been."

"So we're not going to lose what grips we have on these bodies," said Aletha, looking relieved. "That was wandless as well."

"Yes. But I believe that if you are to be sent safely home, part of that magic must be wanded, and therefore it must be done quickly. The degradation does not seem to be progressing in a linear fashion, but rather an exponential one."

Remus swore. Emmeline looked grim.

"Translation?" said Sirius, feeling somewhat stupid.

"It started slow, but it's going to get worse fast," said Emmeline. "And the longer it goes on, the faster it gets worse."

Sirius grimaced. "So even if I do get my magic back, it might not matter."

Remus shook his head. "No. We can't let that happen. It would ruin everything we work for, everything we care about."

"Not to mention, it'd be hell on the war," said Emmeline quietly. "Plenty of wandless Dark magic."

Remus nodded. "If they return home," he asked Dumbledore, "would that repair what's wrong?"

Dumbledore inclined his head. "So we believe."

Sirius laughed. "So it's easy," he said. "We figure out how to send them home, and we send them, and that fixes the magic. Kill two Fwoopers with one spell, and everybody's happy." He stopped, noticing the looks he was getting. "Right?"

No one would meet his eyes. Finally, Draco looked up. "We all have to go back, if it's going to work right," he said. "All of us."

He opened his hand and let something spill out.

The gold chain Padfoot had said belonged to their Harry.

Suddenly it didn't look so easy.

* * *

(A/N: A little shorter than they've been running lately, but I think you'll forgive me. Especially when I tell you that I think the climax will be coming up in either the next chapter or the one after that! So let me know what you think will happen, or if you don't have a clue, and how you're liking it so far. 

Just so you know, I have little to no inside information on the future of the Truths universe. Anything which happens in this story, stays in this story, and will have no bearing on the actual future of either universe. (I do know one thing, but I promised not to tell.) So enjoy, review, Yahoo, and all that jazz...)


	9. Nine

The scene in front of him more closely resembled a zoo gone mad than anything else Harry could think of off the top of his head. Animals twined around each other happily, screeching or howling, yelping or purring, according to their various natures. Some of them he had seen before – the lion, for instance, and the wolf playfully worrying at one of the lion's front paws. He also recognized the black dog, though he had never seen the similarly colored horse it seemed to be playing tag with, dodging sweeps of the creature's huge wings.

Others were less familiar. He had no idea what, or who, the hawk sitting on a perch could represent, though he was intrigued by the calico cat crouched below the perch, attempting to stare the hawk down. On another, lower, perch nearby sat a white owl, which was grooming the head-fur of a white fox with beak and talons. A doe deer galloped around the whole group, with something Harry couldn't quite make out on her back, something silvery which seemed to shimmer in and out of sight.

Movement off to one side, away from the main group, caught his eye. A large, reddish wildcat was staring at him, the first sign he'd seen that any of the animals knew he was there. Its brown eyes seemed to bore into him, demanding something, though he had no idea what. Its short, black-tipped tail stuck straight out behind it, and its tufted ears were laid back as it bared its teeth and hissed.

Something whined beside him. Harry turned to look.

In a cage so small that it could barely move lay a dark-furred wolf. It stared longingly first at the tangle of animals, then at the wildcat, which gave a low yowl as if responding to the look. Finally, the wolf turned its eyes to Harry.

They were the same bright green Harry saw every time he looked in the mirror. And as the wolf shifted a little closer to him, Harry saw a thin line of white fur on its forehead, above and between its eyes, a line shaped like a lightning bolt.

The wolf's disturbing eyes were fixed now not on Harry's face, but on something he held in his hands – a key, he saw as he looked down, he was holding a key, a key which looked like it would fit the lock on the cage which held the wolf. And all the other animals had stopped playing, and were staring at him in their turn, challenging him with their eyes.

_What am I supposed to do?_

A rapping sound made him jump, and as he did, everything vanished – animals, wolf, cage, everything –

He was slumped over a small hill of loose mattress padding in the middle of his bed. His room was covered with stuffing and feathers, and someone was knocking on his door.

"Who is it?"

"It's Emmeline."

Harry swore under his breath. There was no way he could get the room cleaned up in anything under an hour. He'd just have to face the music. "Er, come in."

"Can you open the door? I have my hands full."

"All right." Harry climbed stiffly out of the hole in the mattress he'd been sitting in and opened the door for her.

Emmeline looked around the room for a moment before coming in. In her hands, she held a breakfast tray, loaded with several of Harry's favorite foods, and he suddenly realized he'd missed a meal. "You really did a job on this place, didn't you?" she asked, her mouth twitching a little to one side.

Harry brushed stuffing and feathers off his desk, giving her a place to set the tray, and didn't answer. He didn't know quite what he'd say if he did.

"Eat," said Emmeline sternly, pointing at the food. "You're no good to anyone hungry." She took a steaming mug off the tray. "This is mine. The rest is for you."

Harry picked up the tray himself and sat down on the floor with it, resting his back against the desk. Emmeline took the chair Hermione had cleared and sipped at her drink, looking at him every so often without staring or sneaking glances. Harry got the impression that she would listen to anything he might have to say, but that she didn't want to pry.

He could talk to her, he knew. She would listen and not judge, and then give him the best advice she could. And she was his Occlumency teacher. She needed to know about anything which might be a sign of Voldemort trying to get into his mind.

He swallowed a mouthful of eggs. "I had a dream," he said, picking up his glass of pumpkin juice. "I don't know if it was related to Voldemort or not, but it was strange."

"Strange how?"

Harry explained between bites about the animals playing, the wildcat and the wolf, and his sense that they had all wanted him to do something.

Emmeline frowned, looking thoughtful. "Harry, I think I might be able to explain this, but you may not like it. It's not related to Voldemort, at least not directly, and it is related to our guests. Will you listen and hear me out?"

A little reluctantly, Harry nodded.

"The descriptions you're giving sound very like what Draco and Aletha have been telling me about their family and friends when they're at home. The types of animals, their playing together, everything makes sense. Including the caged wolf. From the way you described his eyes and the marking on his forehead, I think you know who he is."

Harry scowled at his toast. "He's me," he said. "Another me."

"You sound angry."

"Wouldn't you be?" Harry looked at her, trying to make her understand. "He's _in my head!_ He just... moved in, without asking me, without giving me a chance to fight back, and I've been having nightmares that have to be his – it's like he's possessing me, and I don't have a chance against him, because he's so much like me that I can't fight him! But if I don't fight him, I'll turn into him – thinking Malfoy's my brother, and Merlin knows what else!"

Emmeline made a soft noise of understanding. "You have the wrong end of the wand, Harry," she said. "You're not turning into him. He's turning into you."

"What?"

"You're the native to this world. You belong here. Because of that, you have the advantage. I understand where you might have gotten the wrong idea from what happened to Draco, but Draco Black is much stronger mentally and emotionally than Draco Malfoy. That's not the case with you. I would imagine that you and your counterpart – we've been calling him Wolf, to differentiate between the two of you – are almost evenly matched. But he's a visitor, an unwilling guest in your head. So your mind treats him as an intruder, and tries to make him conform."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that – without meaning to do it, without even knowing that you're doing it – you are destroying him." Emmeline's voice was not accusing, simply stating facts. "You know the truths of this world so strongly that you can deny the truths of his, force them to become dreams or fantasies or simply be forgotten altogether, because your mind knows that in this world, his truths are very dangerous."

"Like Malfoy, or whatever his name is, being my brother?"

"Exactly. Harry, no one blames you for this. You had no idea it was going on, and no way to stop it even if you did. Not by yourself. But with help, you might be able to stop it. You might even be able to reverse it, and bring Wolf out of your mind altogether, the way Remus and Sirius and Hermione were separated from their counterparts. I'm sure he wants to leave as much as you want him to leave."

Harry crumbled a crust of toast between his fingers. "What would I have to do?"

"If I understand correctly, all you have to do is go to sleep."

"Go to sleep?"

"Danger – the wolf – has magic that works through dreams. She was responsible for separating Remus from his counterpart – we're calling him Moony – and for helping to keep Hermione and hers, Neenie, separate until they could find a body for Neenie to use."

"The cat?"

"Exactly. If she can find Wolf within your mind and separate him from you, we can find a wolf's body for him to inhabit until they go home, so that you two don't get mixed up again."

Harry crushed the rest of the toast in his palm. "I... don't like people digging through my mind," he confessed. "I don't mind it with you, because I know you. I know you won't go looking for stuff, and if you find it it's by accident. But I don't know her. I don't know what she'd want to do or see."

Emmeline smiled with a trace of sadness. "Thank you for the vote of confidence, Harry. Will you trust me enough to believe me?"

Harry felt a slight rush of mischief. "Depends on what you say."

Emmeline chuckled. "All right. I say that Danger and I have a lot in common, and that you can trust her the way you would trust me. She will look at only those memories of yours that she absolutely must, and she will tell no one what she sees. It's true that she cares very much about her own Harry, her Wolf, but she also cares about you."

Harry fought back a blush at the delicately worded refutation of part of what he'd yelled at Hermione. "All right," he said finally. "When does she want to do it?"

"As soon as possible. Are you finished?"

Harry looked down at the remains of his breakfast. "Yeah."

"All right. I would have suggested doing it in here, since this is your room and you're likely to be comfortable here, but if we want to get it done quickly, the living room might be better." _Since you've trashed this place pretty thoroughly,_ she seemed to be saying silently, but with only a mild and tolerant scolding implicit in her tone.

"Okay." Harry stood up, lifting the tray with him. "Living room it is."

* * *

"I agreed to her," said the boy on the couch disdainfully, looking at Draco. "Not to him." 

Draco bit down hard on his lip, trying to keep hold of his fraying temper. _He's not the Harry I know,_ he reminded himself carefully. _No matter how much he looks like him, he's not the Harry I know. He's not turning on me, not betraying me, he's acting perfectly normally for his world. Getting mad at him won't help anything._

"Danger can't talk in this form," he said aloud. "But I can hear her mind-to-mind when we're in contact. So I can tell you if she needs you to do anything."

"Couldn't she just talk to me directly?" Harry wanted to know.

Draco looked down at Danger. **I really don't want to get into this,** he told her silently. **It's none of his business...**

**So just tell him "no", Fox. But do it politely, please. His rudeness is no excuse for yours.**

Draco shook his head. "Sorry, it wouldn't work. It has to be me."

Harry sighed. "Fine, then. What does she want me to do?"

"For starters, you could try talking to her," said Draco a little more sharply than he'd intended. "She's only mute, not deaf."

"Well, excuuuuuuuse me."

"You sound like Malfoy," muttered Draco before he could stop himself.

Harry's eyes widened. "I do _not!_"

"Yeah, you do. I've been listening to him for days, and you really do."

"I don't have to put up with this!" Harry jumped up. "I'm out of here!" He ran down the hallway to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him again.

Draco groaned and hid his face in his hands.

A cold nose contacted the side of his leg. **Are we familiar with the phrase "counter-productive"? **Danger asked, in a tone which suggested she would have been a lot more amused had the situation not been so serious. **I certainly hope you don't act up like this on a field mission, or we're taking you off that roster, effective immediately. **

**I'm sorry... but he did! **

**You think Potter sounds like me? **said a new voice. **I'm insulted.**

**Oh, grand.** Draco sat down on the couch, keeping his hand on Danger's neck so as not to break their connection. **I managed both to offend everyone involved here, and to make our situation worse. Is there any _other_ way I can screw up? **

**You may not have done as much damage as you think, Fox.** Danger leapt lightly up to the couch beside him, laying her front half in his lap. **Even with his permission to enter his mind, I might not have been able to do anything. The assimilation is already very advanced, because it's had so much time to work, and because the two of them were so alike to begin with. Also, I don't have a soul-bond with Harry like I do with Remus, or a blood-bond like with Hermione, so if he's far enough gone, he might not even recognize my call. **

**Do any of us have that kind of bond with him?** Draco thought it over, and came to a conclusion that made him shiver. **We don't. He's no blood to any of us, and none of us cubs have soul-bonded yet...**

**And even if he had, that wouldn't do us any good, because she's not here.** Danger sighed gustily. **I'll be honest with you, Draco love. This isn't looking good. The only thing I can think of at this point is that maybe, if we can get the barrier down between the worlds, our Wolf would be so attracted to home that he would be able to free himself. **

_Home..._

The word hung in the air between them, so desirable Draco could almost see it. The Den, the Burrow, the Landing Zone, and Fireflower House, and the area around them, where the Pride trained in the summers, learning what they needed to keep themselves alive, and having some fun along the way. Hogwarts, standing proud and tall despite the threat of Voldemort, offering shelter and learning to all who entered there, and nearly endless opportunities for pranks and games.

And not just the places of home, but the people. The Pack was all here, but he was not just Pack, he was Pride too, and half of the Pride had been left behind. Not that he would have wanted them here – Ron, in particular, would have taken this very badly. He liked Ron a lot, but it was a fact that the red-haired boy didn't handle surprises or unfamiliar situations well.

_Nothing wrong with that, in general. He can learn to deal, to some extent – he has learned, he's a lot better than he used to be – and everyone has different strengths and weaknesses. I could never plan a fight, or a game of chess, the way he can. Many talents, one goal. _

And Luna. Draco stopped for a moment, as he always did, to think about his incredible luck in knowing her. She was the kindest, most accepting, most generous soul alive, and for some incomprehensible reason, she liked him, possibly even as much as he liked her. As he had told Malfoy, the two of them had, somewhere along the way, grown into the knowledge that a mating between them would be desirable to both, and would someday happen, as surely as the seasons turned.

_But as soon as we get home, I'm asking her formally,_Draco decided. _Something like this could happen again, to either of us or both. I want us at least to be sworn to each other, if not fully mated – we're neither of us ready for that yet. _

**Cutting off your options awfully young, aren't you?** Malfoy commented. **Has it ever occurred to you that you might meet someone else? **

Draco sighed. **Pride/out-Pride relationships don't work so well. It's been tried. Friendships, of course, we all have out-Pride friends, but romance... not so much. **

**Do tell.**

**It's not my story.** Draco hoped Malfoy would take a hint from his flat tone and quit asking.

**All right, fine.** The other boy sounded grouchy, but resigned. **So if you're not supposed to date outside your _Pride,_ who's everybody else matched up with?**

Draco smiled and projected an image of the four mate-pairings within the Pride, all of which had been obvious to everyone, except, in some cases, the males involved, for several years.

Malfoy made a noise which equated to a mental eye-roll. **Why am I not surprised?**

**Because some things never change?**

There was no answer.

* * *

After a little while, Draco went into the kitchen to report that Danger had been unable to enter Harry's mind deeply enough to search for Wolf. This, while not strictly true, would salve Harry's pride, as well as allowing him the time needed to calm down. Danger could not enter the dreams of a mind not bonded to her if it was actively resisting her. Time might be vital, but they would gain nothing by trying to force Harry to help them. 

Heads nodded around the room when he told his tale, as though it were nothing more than they'd expected. "We're going to try working it from the other end," said Remus. "Go north to the place where you came through, and try to hold the barrier open for a little while. If we can send some of you home, that might slow the degradation of the magic."

"But we won't have bodies on the other side," said Draco in confusion. "Will we?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Part of my contact with my counterpart involved that very question," he said. "Your friends have not been idle. Using some of their... unique... magic, certain of them have prepared living bodies, with no souls, human or animal, currently resident. If your minds and souls, as well as some of the residue of your previous bodies, can cross the threshold between worlds, it is likely you will be drawn to these bodies, and be able to reside in them as you did in your original ones."

Draco frowned. _Living bodies, with no souls? How is that possible?_

Neenie rubbed against his leg, giving him an image as she did of Fireflower House and its occupants, and Draco suddenly understood. _Of course. I should have thought of that. Good old Shade..._

"As many of us as can go, should," said Aletha. "We don't know how far magic has already degraded here, or how many people will be needed to open the barrier or hold the opening. We do know it will take a fair number to hold the shields around the area, to keep the breakdown from worsening. So we're taking just about everyone who can do magic."

"And that means I get to stay behind," said Sirius, sounding slightly bitter but resigned. "The nominal adult, in case Harry needs anything. Are you sure it wouldn't be a good idea to take him along?" he asked Dumbledore.

"If I understand the patterns of this magic correctly, we must have his willing participation for this to work," replied the Headmaster. "And he has been, so far, singularly unwilling. Understandably so, but still, forcing him to accompany us and face unknown magic, of unknown proportions, is hardly the best of moves at this time."

Sirius sighed. "You're right," he said. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

* * *

_And I don't._

_In fact, I hate it. _

_I hate this whole bloody mess._

The house was quieter than it had been all day. Everyone, except for Sirius and Harry, had gone north to Hogsmeade, to the place where the Pack (_cute name, and fitting, since so many of their forms are canine_) had been pushed into this world.

_Well, I don't hate one thing. I'm actually a little glad about magic starting to break down... because if it hadn't..._

Sirius decided to allow himself one wallow in fear and disgust. Watching Wormtail receive the Dementor's Kiss was still one of the worst memories of his life, and he had no wish whatsoever to find out what that felt like on his own account. He also had no illusions that having his soul cursed out would be any less painful and horrific than having it sucked out.

_And if I'm going to be totally honest, I'm a little selfishly glad that everyone else gets a taste of what it feels like to know that magic won't answer reliably to them anymore. This is one of the worst things that's ever happened to me – I'm almost completely useless now..._

_Hold it, there, Sirius. Enough with the self-pity. Time for an honest assessment. _

He stood up and walked over to the mirror hanging on his bedroom wall, taking a good look at himself. A man in his mid-thirties, dark-haired, grey-eyed, not unattractive, and in good condition – Aurors had to stay in shape, able to duck and dodge, since not all spells could be blocked. Physically, he was perfectly healthy, and if the Healers hadn't been optimistic about him regaining his magic, at least they hadn't been pessimistic.

_And it could be a hell of a lot worse. I could be the one using an animal's body, locked out of my own world, with no sure way to get home, and worried sick that my Harry was going to die..._

The door of his room swung open. Sirius turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, his eyes on the carpet. "Hey, Harry," he said conversationally. "What's going on?"

There was no answer. Sirius frowned. "Harry, are you all right?"

Slowly, Harry raised his head and looked directly at his godfather.

Sirius blanched, his breath catching in his throat. Deep within those green eyes, he had just seen a tinge of red.

_Oh, Merlin, no..._

"Sirius Black," said Harry in a voice that wasn't his, but that Sirius knew all too well. "I tire of your interference with my plans. Even without your magic, you are still a threat..." Slowly, jerkily, Harry's right arm came up, pointing his wand at Sirius.

"Harry, don't," Sirius whispered, praying his words could penetrate to his godson. "Harry, fight this – fight him – I know you can – you have to..."

"Good night, Mr. Black," said that chilling voice, as Harry's lips stretched in a rictus grin. Sirius couldn't move, this was too like his nightmares come true – he couldn't dodge, couldn't do anything, he was going to die, here and now –

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

In the same instant the spell left his wand, Harry jerked his arm ever so slightly to one side, and the green bolt of magic missed Sirius by an inch, striking the mirror instead. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces – the spell was reflected, turning back at its caster –

"NO!"

Sirius heard his own anguished cry, saw Harry's eyes widen, in fear, in satisfaction, in astonishment, he couldn't tell, as the green light struck his chest –

His paralysis gone, Sirius hurdled his bed, falling to his knees beside Harry's body –

"Freeze, Black," said another familiar, and thoroughly unwelcome, voice.

"You," growled Sirius, turning his head to face the speaker. "You bastard. Going to have another go at getting my soul, are you?"

Lucius Malfoy smiled pitilessly. "Oh, I think so. Not that you don't deserve it – I have reliable information that you and Lupin have been sheltering a certain runaway. Clever of him, to fake madness as a way of getting out of his initiation."

"How do you know it was fake?"

Malfoy raised a supercilious eyebrow. "I severely doubt a madman could have concocted such a cunning plan as freeing the house-elf, knowing that the wards it placed around his room would be gone once it left. I would be proud of his ingenuity, were it not that his actions have made it obvious where his true loyalties lie. But no matter. Once I have him safely back in my power, he can be... gently disabused of these foolish notions."

"You're going to Obliviate him, you mean," Sirius challenged. "Or put him under Imperius, until he's a perfect little copy of you."

Malfoy's smile widened. "Perhaps... perhaps. If it strikes me as proper. But I should finish with you first. The Dark Lord was reluctant to allow me to accompany him on this mission, but I persuaded him that Potter might be more resilient than he knew. I hope you were proud of your godson while he lived, Black – such a noble character as his, to save you even at the expense of his own life..."

Red rage clouded Sirius' vision, an invisible hand gripped his throat, hot fury rushed through him. Without listening to another word, he was on his feet, charging down the hall.

If he was going to go, he was bloody well going to take Malfoy with him. Or as much of him as he could.

He had only time to note the expression of shock on Malfoy's face before he knocked him over and started inflicting pain as many different ways as he could manage. Malfoy tried to get his wand into play, but Sirius grabbed the end of it and forced it out of the way with one hand, punching Malfoy repeatedly in the face with the other.

_I can't let go._ That was the only rational thought he could hold onto. _I can't let go his wand. If I do, he'll have me. I can't let go. _

They scrabbled on the floor for a few more moments, until Malfoy landed a lucky punch that knocked Sirius backwards and dived onto him, kneeling on his arms and pressing his wand against Sirius' chest.

"Revenge is sweet, Black," he hissed, spitting blood onto the floor. "_Extraho Anim –_ AAARRRRGGGGGHHH!" The final sound was a scream of pain – caused, as Sirius saw in his last moment of clarity, by something small and white, which had just bitten Malfoy on his left wrist.

Then everything was white light and rushing sound, and a feeling of something dragging at him, trying to pull him apart –

_No. You can't have me._ He dug his heels in and resisted. _No, no, no, no, I am NOT going down without a fight! _

Inch by inch, he fought whatever was pulling on him, pulling back on it with all his strength, until, with a tangible snap, it parted somewhere beyond his reach, and recoiled on him, hurling him backwards to crash against the wall.

The last thing he saw, before darkness claimed him, was Malfoy lying unconscious nearby, and the last thing he heard was the anxious chittering of some kind of small animal.

* * *

Harry had tried to fight. Truly, he had. But Voldemort had laughed – that awful, shrill, blood-chilling sound – and pushed aside his Occlumency barriers as if they were nothing, or perhaps he had gone around them in some way Harry didn't know how to fight. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he was about to kill Sirius, and there wasn't anything Harry could do about it – he had to watch, a helpless prisoner in his own body – 

Until, at the very instant his voice finished the spell, Voldemort's bonds on him suddenly weakened slightly. Just slightly – but enough that Harry could jerk his hand to one side, enough that the spell missed Sirius – but it was coming back at him, and he couldn't move, he couldn't dodge – it hit him square in the chest –

Snarls and curses struck his ears. Harry blinked and looked around.

He stood on a flat, black plain, with nothing in any direction, except directly in front of him. Not five feet away, Lord Voldemort wrestled fiercely with a dark-furred wolf, trying to keep its jaws from his throat. As Harry watched, Voldemort struck the wolf hard between the ears with his fist, so that it collapsed with a whine, then brought his wand around and blasted it with a curse so hard that it skidded ten feet along the floor.

Almost without conscious thought, Harry leapt off the ground and changed forms. Tiny and golden, he flew at Voldemort, whirring around him, pecking at his eyes. He might not be able to do much damage, but if he didn't do something, that wolf was going to die –

Voldemort's spell hit him this time, knocking him out of the air and out of Snidget form. He hit the ground hard, winding himself so badly that he couldn't even yell in pain. He heard Voldemort approaching –

Heard a spell shouted in a voice that was decidedly not Voldemort's –

Heard the Dark Lord turn to meet it, and the sounds of a magical battle in progress –

Harry levered himself painfully up to get a look at the duel, just as Voldemort's Cruciatus curse broke his opponent's shield and struck home –

Harry drew his own wand. "_Stupefy!_" he shouted, aiming for Voldemort, and though the Dark Lord blocked it, that meant he had to stop cursing the other boy, who was now on the floor panting –

_It's him. The other Harry. That's the only person he can be, he looks just like me, and he was a wolf – _

The other boy looked up. Green eyes met green.

**Duck!**

Harry dropped to the floor, hearing a curse pass over his head. **Any ideas?** he asked, sending another curse back at Voldemort and rolling out of the way of the return salvo.

**Just one. Can we throw him out if we work together?**

**It's worth a try. How do you think we should start?**

**We should probably be touching...** **look out!**

Harry couldn't dodge in time – the Cruciatus hit him now, and he screamed, arching his back in pain – he was being eaten alive, stabbed with a thousand knives, crushed by falling rocks –

The pain was gone, but he was in no shape to move –

_It's move or die._

He moved, gritting his teeth and getting agonizingly to his feet. The other Harry – Wolf – had Voldemort's attention now, but for how long?

**Ready?** he asked.

**Whenever you are. **

**All right – now! **Harry cast an _Incendio_ off to one side, pulling Voldemort's attention for a fraction of a second, and used that time to get to Wolf's side. Their hands clasped.

It was like an electric shock, only less painful and more invigorating. They seemed almost to have more magic together than they did separately, if that were possible –

**Wall,** said Wolf, conjuring one, of transparent energy, with them inside it and Voldemort out.

**No, sphere,** Harry corrected, putting a roof and a floor on the enclosure and smoothing the edges. **We can't let him in anywhere.**

**I would have thought of that eventually,** said his counterpart with good humor. **Ready to push?**

**I think so. **Harry stared at Voldemort, who stared back. **On my mark?**

**It's your body. **

**All right. Ready, steady, GO. **

Together, they pushed the boundary of their magical wall outward, shoving Voldemort back as they did. The Dark Lord retreated, step by step, looking wary but not overly concerned.

**Do you think he knows something?** Harry asked.

**He always seems to know something.** Wolf's voice sounded weary. **We need a trick. Something he doesn't know about, or can't counter. He can counter straight magic. We have to add something to it. **

**The "power the Dark Lord knows not"? **

**Oh, you too, eh?**

**Me too. Damn prophecy. Do you have any idea what it is?**

**There's been speculation. Let me try something. Come with me?**

**Sure. **

Wolf moved a pace or two forward, taking him to the edge of their magical wall, and Harry followed, never letting go his counterpart's hand. Wolf laid his free hand on the wall and closed his eyes. Harry did the same, and saw on the insides of his eyelids a small, comfortable room, filled with people Harry knew – Ron and Hermione, Luna and Neville, Meghan Freeman and Draco Black, as it must be for him to be in this company –

And Ginny. Harry could feel the emotion coursing through Wolf at the sight of her. A little unsettled by this, he opened his eyes – and saw Voldemort. The Dark Lord actually looked uncomfortable, and he backed up farther from the two boys as Wolf's feelings mounted, higher and higher –

**Love,** said Harry in sudden certainty. **It's love, isn't it?**

**That's what we think. **

**I can do love.** Harry grinned, placed his own free hand on the magical shield, and thought hard about everyone he cared about, and everyone who cared about him.

Sirius and Remus, who had guarded him and cherished him from the moment they took him from the Dursleys. Ron and his brothers, who had been the best friends anyone could want, besides being thrilled to take part in all sorts of pranks. Hermione, an infallible source of information, able and willing to answer any question a confused friend might ask.

And Ginny. The most beautiful, most talented, most willful, most lovable witch he could imagine, who had waited amazingly patiently for him to get his head out of his arse and notice her. Now that he had, he wanted to do more than notice her – he wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to...

**Careful. We need love, not lust. **

**Oh, shut up.** But Harry scaled back his thoughts about Ginny to the kind he'd be willing to tell her parents about. His intentions, after all, were honorable. He'd be only too happy to marry her, once they were both old enough, and if she didn't change her mind. He didn't think he would.

The combined emotions of both boys were coloring the shield a warm red, and Voldemort had retreated so far he was barely visible. Harry and Wolf ramped up their efforts, bringing up every happy memory either of them could think of, neither allowing fear or doubt any leeway, and with a sound like a far-off Apparition, the Dark Lord was gone.

* * *

(A/N: So you can all stop panicking now... 

I love Neurotica, for writing so neatly into my storyline without even meaning to! She is a rocking author, and I cannot wait until Altercations goes up!

Not a terribly large amount left, just a few little clean-up jobs that will probably fit in two chapters, tops, and another AU is finito. And then, maybe, just maybe, I'll get started on that little thing called "Dealing with Danger", and clear up the mysteries I left at the end of "Living without". Wouldn't you all like that? And won't you tell me how much, by clicking on that pretty purple button?)


	10. Ten

Remus Lupin, who was currently using his nickname of Moony to differentiate him from the Remus Lupin native to this world, was immensely frustrated.

_We just want to go home. To the place we belong. You'd think that this border, barrier, whatever you want to call it would understand that! _

But no, the barrier between the worlds had been totally resistant to any kind of magic the motley group had tried on it. Nothing had induced it to open even the smallest hole.

_And the smallest hole is all we'd really need. I don't think souls take up physical space, and the only physical things we're trying to send through are the pendants – and even there, we wouldn't be sending these things we're wearing, any more than these animals who are hosting us will be going through the barrier. It's the essence of the pendants we'd send, and the material will come of itself..._

He shook his head a little, feeling the weight of the chain around his neck. Dumbledore had been able to find some of the dust that their physical bodies had become after their transfer, using the different traces of their magic as guidelines, and had used that, along with the contributed memories of the day the pendants had been made, to call their magical essence to him.

_And then, with an alchemical potion, he changed that lead into gold, and turned it into "host-bodies" for the pendants, the way these animals are for us. Better to do it that way – other kinds of gold might have other kinds of magic on them, magic that would interfere. This way, he's sure of getting fresh gold with no taint. _

But none of that mattered, or would matter, if they were to be eternally trapped in this thrice-damned world...

_I'm being overdramatic again. It's not a bad world. It has a lot of merits in its own way. But it's not home. We don't belong here. _

**We have each other,** said Danger. **That's enough belonging for the moment. Come on, let's take this shield down.**

**All right.** Moony turned to the shield of mingled magical fire and pure magic, which he and Danger had been sustaining along with this world's Remus and his girlfriend Emmeline.

_They seem happy. I hope they are. He deserves some happiness, especially. _Moony had been privy to many of Remus' memories and thoughts during his stay in the other man's mind, and though he would never discuss them with anyone else, he saw no reason he shouldn't think them over himself.

After all, they might someday keep him out of a similar predicament.

But enough thinking for the moment. The shield, which had kept the effects of the powerful magic Dumbledore had been trying on the barrier between worlds from leaking out, had to come down. Moony caught Remus' eye and nodded to him. Remus nodded back, then lifted his wand and began to speak the ending spell for the shield. Emmeline did the same on her end, and Moony and Danger concentrated on removing the fire they'd woven into the magic without disrupting it.

As they finished, Padfoot – their world's Sirius – wrinkled his nose and sneezed. Meghan put a hand on his neck. "Dadfoot says something's wrong," she said with a bit of confusion. "But he's not sure what..."

A smell of sudden fear and confusion struck Moony like a curse, mixed with this world's version of a scent he knew well. He quickly took the few strides to take him to Draco's side, allowing his Pack-son to lean on him as Draco's legs ceased to hold him up.

"Something's _really_ wrong," said Draco harshly, fighting to get his breathing under control. The rest of the Pack closed around him, offering strength. "Malfoy's scared to death – but it's of something he already did. Whatever it was, it's over. And we should get back, like fifteen minutes ago."

**Hold on, then,** Moony sent, knowing Draco wouldn't hear him directly, but seeing Danger moving into position against his legs. **I'll take you Side-Along.**

He knew when the message had reached its target, because Draco knelt and grasped his forepaw, holding on tightly, almost to the point of pain. Moony shut his eyes and thought hard about his destination – the comfortable, peaceful little cottage deep in the woods...

* * *

Meghan had no sooner recovered her breath from Side-Along-Apparating with her Mama Letha than she was running into the cottage. She spared one moment to gather her magic and form it into the shape she needed most at the moment –

_Commonstro Salubritas,_ she thought as clearly as she could manage, not only hearing herself speak the words but seeing them on the insides of her eyelids, written in bronze on a background of blue, as though they were a plaque or a shield.

When she opened her eyes, everyone in her view had a shimmer of colors around them, colors she knew only she could see. Most Healers did this spell with a wand. Her magic allowed her to do it wandlessly, but the principle was the same. The colors would tell her at a glance the state of a person's health, whether they were well, sick, injured...

_Or dead._

She rounded the corner into the hallway and had to cover her mouth to stifle a giggle. The three wizards lying on the floor were not any three she would have picked to be found all together. Well, Harry and Dadfoot – no, Sirius, she had to remember, he was somebody else – might be together, but Lucius Malfoy... probably not.

And the colors around him were telling her something she hardly ever saw on a magical patient. She frowned, then took another look at Dadfoot – _Sirius_. She had thought he was the one with that problem, but it seemed not.

She turned her eyes to Harry. Her first look had told her the important thing, that no one was dead, but now she could look more closely. Harry had the marks of someone who had just missed death, who had been very close to it; not as close as in his second year back home, maybe, but close enough. Still, he was alive enough now, and mostly unhurt, and would wake up on his own time, though that time might be a day or two coming if she didn't help him along.

_But that can wait. I want to know what happened with them._

Malfoy, she could tell by the sullen colors swirling around him, would be unconscious for the better part of a day without her interference. She had no plans to interfere. Lucius Malfoy and the Pack had never gotten along well, and she didn't think that being in a different universe would have changed that.

But Dad – _Sirius. Or what if I call him Mr. Black? That might work better. _

Mr. Black, then, might well wake up any time now. But he was going to have a really nasty headache if she didn't do anything to help.

She shut her eyes again and checked herself over. She was feeling healthy and strong, and this body might not be her own, but it was suited to what she wanted to do. It wouldn't be a strain on her to bring Mr. Black awake and heal his headache and the bruises she could sense on him.

Besides, she wanted to be one of the first to hear what had happened. Because then she would get to tell him what _else_ had happened.

Her face crinkled in a cheerful grin. _I love good news._

She leaned down over him and laid a hand on his forehead, stroking the other one gently along all the places he'd been hurt in the fight, sending her magic through him and convincing his body that it wasn't hurt as badly as all that...

* * *

**What did I do, what did I do, what did I do?** Malfoy moaned, running around in little circles on the carpet. **I was crazy, I was an idiot, I shouldn't have done it, he'll never take me back now, never, never...**

"Did you really want to go back?" Draco asked quietly.

**Yes. No. Maybe. **

"No, it's 'yes, no, maybe so'."

**What?** Malfoy actually stopped to look up at him.

"It's for skipping rope. You ask a question, then you skip to that beat. 'Yes, no, maybe so, yes, no, maybe so'. Whenever you miss, that's the answer."

**That's not funny!**

Draco shrugged. "It wasn't supposed to be."

**What was it supposed to be, then?**

"Weird enough to break you out of your little panic attack long enough to tell me what happened."

**Oh. **Malfoy lay down on the carpet abruptly, panting a bit. **I was in the living room. I heard, and smelled, Potter coming out of his room. Only he smelled funny, like he was under stress. So I went to see what was happening, and I heard him talking – but it wasn't him. It was the Dark Lord.**

"Voldemort was _here?_"

**He possessed Potter. He tried to make him kill Black. But I think he missed or something, and the spell came back and hit him instead. **

Draco felt his eyes widen until he was sure they looked like Luna's. Harry – this world's Harry, but with his brother riding sidecar – hit by a Killing Curse, even a ricocheted one?

_Pearl's here. If there's even a chance he could survive, she'll find it. She's done it before. And worrying won't help. _Draco gripped the edge of the bed he was sitting on tightly and forced himself into some semblance of calm. "What then?"

**My father showed up. He taunted Black some, and Black charged him and fought him, hitting him and kicking him and things like that. My father said he was going to try to take Black's soul. I didn't know you could do that with magic. And he knows I'm here, I don't know how, and he wants me back – but he wants me fixed first. **

"Fixed?" Draco bit down hard on the laughter threatening to escape him at the first thought which had come to him – he severely doubted Lucius Malfoy would want his only son fixed in _that_ particular way.

_Get your ugly mind out of the gutter, Draco, and listen – he actually sounds scared. _

**He was going to Obliviate me, or put me under Imperius. He said so. **Malfoy looked up at Draco, his eyes bleak and frightened. **I don't want to be under Imperius. And I don't want to forget this. I don't want to forget London, and what we did. I liked it there. I liked the music, and the dancing, and everything we saw. I think I'd like to go back sometime. **

"Don't go alone," Draco recommended. "Not until you learn a little more about how Muggles live. But what happened then?"

**They were fighting. My father was about to curse Black. I guess he would have taken his soul out. But I stopped him from finishing the spell. **

"You did? How?"

If ferrets could blush, Malfoy would have been Chinese Fireball red. **I – I bit him. He yelled. Then there was something around them, like light, but not – I got out of the way – and then they both flew backwards, like they'd been pulling on each other and let go. I don't know what happened, I really don't.**

"I believe you." Draco leaned back on the bed. "You know, your father has no way to know that was you biting him. He'll just think it was a weird little animal. As far as he knows, the worst thing you did was run away from home."

**No, he thinks I faked being mad to avoid getting initiated. He said as much.** Malfoy's tone was suddenly bitter. **And I did – except I didn't, because you did – and he'll never believe me when I tell him that!**

Before Draco could think much about this, there was a scratch on the door. He got up and opened it, and Neenie ran in, plastering herself against his legs. **Harry's all right,** she blurted. **He's alive, Pearl says, the Curse didn't kill him.**

Draco felt his knees go weak again in relief.

**But she says there's something funny about him. **Neenie looked up at Draco coyly. **That it's almost like he has double magic. Double strength.**

"Or a double soul?" Draco hardly dared to hope, but if the shock of Sirius losing his magic had separated him and Padfoot...

**Maybe. She's going to wake him up in a minute and see. But she says she has something she wants us all to see first. Something about Sirius.**

Obligingly, Draco followed her out into the corridor, repeating what she'd told him for Malfoy, who got to his feet and came along.

* * *

Sirius could feel the dregs of a headache lingering in his skull, but it was dissipating in the wake of the incredibly wonderful news Meghan had given him.

_Harry's alive. _

"But how did he survive?" asked Remus, looking up the hall towards Sirius' bedroom, where Harry had been moved onto the bed. "You said the Curse reflected from the mirror, shattered it, and hit him–"

"That's probably part of it right there," said Emmeline. "A reflected curse isn't going to be as strong as the original, especially not if it used up some of its energy to break the mirror."

"And magic isn't working right," added Hermione. "Maybe that even goes for something like the Killing Curse."

"A third reason as well," said Dumbledore, coming out of Harry's room with something in his hand. "The Killing Curse works in two ways, by shutting down the body of its victim and breaking the bonds with his or her soul. However, there was not one soul resident in Harry's body at the time the Curse struck him, but two. Two and a half, perhaps, if one counts Voldemort as being partly present. The Curse, even had it been at full strength, would have been unable to break all the bonds at once."

"I don't care so much why," said Sirius, leaning back against the wall of the corridor. "I'm just grateful he's alive."

"And you may have more to be grateful for than that." Dumbledore bent and placed what he was carrying on the ground in front of Sirius. "Do you have your wand with you?"

"Yes." Sirius reached behind him and pulled his wand out of his pocket. "Don't tell Mad-Eye." Then he looked at what Dumbledore had set down.

It was a feather.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to try any magic without a Healer's OK," he said, confused.

Aletha looked him up and down. "I'm a Healer, and it's OK," she said wryly. "Meghan says it should be safe for you to try it. I trust her judgment."

"Well, all right." Sirius pointed his wand at the feather, not sure if he should hope for the impossible or not. Lack of hope, he finally decided, would sink him as surely as lack of magic, but if he still lacked magic, all the hope in the world wouldn't do him any good.

Summoning up his courage, he swished and flicked.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

The feather rose smoothly from the floor to the level of his wand tip. Sirius nearly dropped his wand – only his Auror's reflexes kept him holding it. "I thought I wasn't supposed to regenerate magic in anything short of a month," he said in wonder, staring at the floating feather.

"You didn't," said Meghan smugly, grinning at him. "You stole his." She pointed at Malfoy.

Now Sirius did drop his wand. "I _what_? How is that even possible?"

"What did he attempt to do to you?" asked Dumbledore.

"He was trying the soul-taking spell again – but he was interrupted, something bit him, I don't know what–"

"I do," said Draco from down the hall. "It's been taken care of."

"Then I felt like something was pulling on me. So I pulled back. Eventually, whatever it was snapped, and the recoil knocked me backwards. You're saying that was his magic?"

"The combination of the spell's being interrupted and its not working as it should, due to the breakdown of magic as a whole in our world, may have placed the two of you into a situation where your souls were in direct contact," said Dumbledore musingly. "And the stronger soul won, and took spoils from its enemy."

"But – won't his magic, I don't know, be contaminated or something? Could it turn me Dark?"

"No," said Remus, shaking his head. "Magic's not in itself Dark or Light, any more than a wand is. It's a tool – you can use it for either purpose, hurting or helping."

"It won't last forever," Meghan cautioned. "But I think by the time you use it up, your own magic will start coming back."

"And in the meantime, Lucius Malfoy is a Squib." Sirius grinned. "I think I like this."

* * *

**And if he's a Squib – and in Azkaban – he can't put you under Imperius,** Draco told his counterpart. **You could go home after all. Do you think your mother would believe you?**

**Maybe. I hope. **Malfoy's mind was seething with confused emotions, of which hope was only one. They were so strong Draco couldn't quite block them entirely. **But I guess I'll find out. **

"Should I wake up Harry now?" Meghan asked Dumbledore.

"I would like to check him first, to make certain he is unharmed, but then, certainly." Dumbledore swept into Sirius' bedroom, and just about everyone got to their feet, or paws, and followed him in.

* * *

"–and said, really, _really_ politely, 'Mr. Weasley, may I please kill your sons?' And Mr. Weasley looked at the twins and said, 'Well, since we seem to have a spare...'"

Harry cracked up. "A spare!"

"And both of them took off running without even waiting to hear the end of the sentence."

"What was it?"

"'No.'" Wolf grinned. "But he did say we could make their lives miserable for a day or two. And we did."

Harry's laughter died away slowly as he came back to the present. "I think I owe you an apology," he said hesitantly.

"Apology? For what?"

"I... kind of made it hard for your family," Harry admitted. "They wanted to come in here and look for you, inside my mind, and I didn't really want them to. I guess I was hoping if I just ignored you, you'd go away."

"I was going away," said Wolf soberly. "Getting lost in you, forgetting me. But you weren't doing it on purpose, I don't think..."

"No." Harry shook his head. "But I could have been a lot more helpful, and I wasn't. I guess I don't like people in my mind."

"I can understand that, with Voldemort around. I'm sorry I barged in, but I didn't really have a lot of choice."

"I know."

It was enough. They understood each other, not quite perfectly, but very well, perhaps a little better than Harry would have liked.

"So, now that we're separate, you can leave, can't you?" he asked. "Go home and all?"

"Tired of me already?" Wolf joked. "Yeah, I guess so. As long as–"

Suddenly they were no longer sitting on the flat plain where they had been a moment before. Instead, they were both hovering in midair above Harry's unconscious body, still sitting cross-legged, but now sitting on nothing. They both appeared to be made of smoke. Harry saw Sirius and Remus in the crowd around the bed and waved to them. Wolf was waving at several of the animals. Dumbledore was the only one in the group who didn't look at all surprised to see them.

Then they were back on the flat surface, inside Harry's mind, he guessed. "What was that?"

"Just at a guess, Dumbledore checking you out, to make sure Voldemort didn't leave scars."

Harry nodded. "Makes sense. When I – when we wake up, how does that work?"

"I'm not sure," said Wolf, frowning in thought. "I think how it works is that I can see and hear and feel, but I can't do anything. You have control, unless I fight you for it, and I don't want to do that. It's your body. But you can also give me control over parts of it, or all of it, for a little while. I might like to say hi to my Pack, make sure everyone's all right. If you'll let me."

"Sure, I'll do that. How do you know all this?"

"Stories," said Wolf absently, stretching his back. "Moony and Danger have a soul-bond, which I guess is kind of like this, and they tell us stories about it."

"Speaking of stories, it's my turn, isn't it?"

"Sure. What've you got?"

"How about the time Ron and I got busted practicing our Animagus transformations in Gryffindor Tower?"

Wolf chuckled. "What'd you explode?"

"Nothing, just set half the furniture on fire."

"Sounds familiar. Good thing Hogwarts is stone, it would have burned down a long time ago otherwise."

They continued to chat, swapping stories and anecdotes, until, almost without warning, everything went red, then dark, and Harry was lying on his back on a bed, his eyes closed. Gingerly, he opened them, and saw that he was in Sirius' bedroom, with Dumbledore leaning over him.

"How do you feel, Harry?" his Headmaster asked.

"Not too bad, sir. Is Voldemort gone?"

"Yes, Harry. He is gone. Did you fight him?"

"Yeah. But I don't think I would have won if I didn't have help."

"Help?" said a female voice from one side. "What help did you have?"

**I think that's your cue,** Harry said silently. **How do I do this?**

**Just relax and try not to fight me. I swear I'll give it back when I'm done.**

**You'd better,** Harry griped. **I'm not getting shunted off into a Golden Snidget.** He closed his eyes and concentrated on the opposite of Occlumency, on keeping his mind open...

Despite knowing it was going to happen, he almost fought back when his body rolled onto its side and opened its eyes without him motivating either movement. Only the knowledge that the presence moving him was neutral if not actually benign kept him from trying to seize back control.

"He had me, Letha," said his mouth, before grinning at Madam Freeman. "The ruler of Egypt, the King himself. How could he fail?"

Madam Freeman's hand went to her mouth. Her expression seemed to be composed half of wry amusement and half of astonished joy. "Greeneyes – is it you?"

"It's me," said Harry/Wolf.

After that, things got a little confusing, and more than a little like the dream he'd had that morning, Harry thought, with animals swarming everywhere. He'd have to ask about that...

_Later._

After the first ecstasies of greeting were finished, Draco, grinning in a way which transformed his face pleasantly, handed over the gold chain that had been left over when Dumbledore had done the magic with the Pensieve. "I think this belongs to you," he said.

"Damn straight." Wolf draped it around Harry's neck. "No one thought to get the daggers back, did they?"

Draco slapped himself on the forehead. "Knew we forgot something."

"Daggers?" asked two or three people behind him.

"We carry silver daggers," explained Wolf, turning Harry's body around to face his family. "Just the four of us cubs – er, kids – but we'd hate to lose them. Do you think there's any way we could get them back?"

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, smiling in that way he had when he knew something everyone else didn't.

_Which is most of the time._

"For this moment, I believe that we should attempt to open the barrier between the worlds again," Dumbledore went on. "It may have resisted us before because not all the displaced people were present. With all eight accounted for, it is entirely possible that the barrier may be more amenable to being opened."

"I certainly hope so," said Madam Freeman. "For everyone's sakes."

* * *

Once more, a magical shield was raised around the section of path outside Hogsmeade. Once more, Dumbledore, with Fawkes on his shoulder, stepped forward and raised his wand, moving it in careful gestures. But this time, the results were startlingly different. Directly in front of him, the air parted, and the blackness behind it lit up with a picture, as though it were a movie screen – or a mirror, Remus thought. Especially considering there was another Albus Dumbledore standing on the other side.

But no one else on their side was reflected on the other. Though Remus did know everyone else gathered there...

Ginny Weasley gave a little scream of joy, silent to Remus' ears, and would have run forward, through the opening, except that Ron was holding her back. His face was flushed with excitement, his eyes fixed on the calico cat which was Neenie. Luna Lovegood seemed fascinated by the rip in reality, and Neville Longbottom waved to Meghan, who waved back eagerly.

"Harry first," said this side's Dumbledore calmly, his wand circling the edges of the opening in perfect time with his counterpart's, both phoenixes singing softly.

Remus looked at Harry – something was emerging from him, something white and smoky – something exactly his size and shape –

A ghostly Harry Potter pulled himself free from the Harry Remus knew, then turned around to face his erstwhile host. **Thanks,** he said, his voice echoing hollowly.

**No, thank you,** said Harry.

Their hands touched once, then the ghost Harry turned and walked toward the opening. As he did, dust swirled around him, seemingly attracted to him. Movement from the opening caught Remus' eye – Neville had knelt down and was doing something off to one side, where Remus couldn't quite see it.

The ghostly Harry stepped across the border, and was pulled off to one side as by a strong wind. A moment later, Ron released Ginny, who dashed out of sight the same way Harry had gone.

_I guess some things never change._

"Draco next," said Dumbledore, and the blond boy stepped forward, the white ferret Remus knew held this world's Draco in his hands. He held it up to his face for a moment, as if communing with it, then set it on the ground. Sirius stepped up to hold Draco's elbow, so he wouldn't fall during the moment his body held no soul.

Two almost-identical forms emerged, one from the human body, one from the animal. The one which had emerged from the human waited until the other was fully merged with the body he'd just left, then grinned at him. **Good luck,** he said, then turned and crossed the border, where he too was pulled off to one side. Luna's head turned that way, then back to the opening, where she visibly sized up Draco Malfoy before walking out of sight.

One by one, the members of the Pack returned home. Sirius, who wasn't helping to hold the shield, Stunned Moony and Danger's host bodies once their souls had emerged. They would return the lion to the London Zoo (the mystery of the reappearing lion would make a lovely front page story, Remus thought) and the wolf to the Forest at Hogwarts.

Sirius also Untransfigured Madam Freeman and Meghan, turning their bodies back into the flying horse and deer they had been before. They, too, would be returned to their homes in the Forest, but they were unlikely to kill anyone first, so they didn't have to be Stunned.

When all eight of the Pack were safely across the barrier, Dumbledore nodded to Fawkes. The phoenix took flight, still singing, and soared close to the dusty ground. Eddies of dust rose in his wake, some of it curling over into the other world, where it coalesced into the form of four silver daggers, each with a different-colored stone in the pommel, each lying on top of a sheath and belt.

Harry stepped forward and held out the gold medallions and their chains, which dissolved in his hands, bits of lead falling to the ground on this side, swirls of dust crossing the barrier to wreath around the neck of each member of the Pack, leaving the glint of gold where it landed. Some of them noticed, and fingered their new pendants happily. Some of them, such as Neenie, were too busy with other things to notice. Remus sneaked a glance at Hermione, and found her apparently torn between disgust and envy.

_Don't worry, _he wanted to tell her. _Our Ron will get up the courage to try that eventually. Maybe we should get Harry to do to him what James did to me..._

The two Dumbledores nodded to one another. The one on the other side turned to speak to the people behind him, and they quickly assembled, even Neenie and Ron emerging for a moment. All twelve of them lifted their free hands and waved.

_Goodbye,_ they were saying silently. _Goodbye, and thank you._

Remus waved back, and saw out of the corner of his eye Emmeline and Sirius and Harry doing the same. Even Draco Malfoy managed a little, half-hearted wave.

Both Dumbledores brought their wands down in quick, slashing motions, and the breach in reality was closed.

Remus and Emmeline carefully lowered the shield. It was easier than it had been before. Remus hoped that meant magic was getting back to normal.

"One hell of a day," said Sirius, sitting down on a large rock.

"And it's not even lunchtime yet," said Harry, joining him.

For some reason, this struck just about everyone as very funny. Even Hermione was laughing with abandon.

Amid the noise, no one noticed Dumbledore and Draco take a few steps aside.

* * *

"You wish to speak with me?"

"Yes, sir. I..." Draco flushed, looking down. "I don't know if I really want to be a Death Eater."

Dumbledore concealed his inward rush of joy at this declaration. "I see. Do you fear being pressured into this choice if you return home?"

About to nod, Draco stopped. "I don't know," he said. "My father's going to Azkaban, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"Then... I don't know. Mum doesn't want me to, not really, but if the Dark Lord wants me..."

"It must be your choice," said Dumbledore slowly, "not mine, or your father's, or anyone else's. You must decide your own path."

Draco snorted a laugh. "If he wants me, he'll have me. That's how he works. He'll kill Mum, and my father too, if I don't join him..."

"He will not," said Dumbledore. "Not if you tell me of his threats. If you do not wish to join the Death Eaters, Draco, and you are placed under pressure of that sort, contact me immediately. I can arrange for your safety, and your mother's – your father, I think, will be safe in Azkaban, Voldemort is unlikely to invade the prison for one servant whom he believes disloyal in any case, but if it should happen, we will make every effort to protect him as well."

Draco nodded, looking at the ground. "Thank you, sir," he said very quietly.

"You are welcome, Draco."

To himself, Dumbledore smiled.

_Even across the boundaries of the worlds, Voldemort is his own worst enemy..._

* * *

A hawk and an owl wheeled around one another in the sky, as their partners, feline and vulpine, matched their movements on the ground. Nearby, a pair of hunters played stalk-and-chase with their hooved "prey", while trying to keep their tails out of the grasp of the unseen one.

"They are funny, aren't they," said Danger, shielding her eyes against the afternoon sun as she watched her cubs and their Pride-mates play.

"Funny how?" asked Sirius, balancing his chair on two legs.

"Oh, just that we've only just gotten back from something that could have been a disaster, and they're out playing as if nothing happened."

"It's their way of laughing in the face of fate," said Aletha. "Of reminding themselves that it wasn't a disaster. That Voldemort didn't win."

"Speaking of which, do you think we ought to try to keep it on the down low that we're back?" asked Sirius.

"I don't see how we can," said Remus. "Not for long, anyway. School starts in a little over a month, and we have our jobs... I suppose we could go into hiding, but it would be a big strain on everyone. Besides, no harm in making Voldemort wonder just what kinds of secret talents we have up our sleeves, that we can return seemingly unscathed from what he thought was the perfect trap."

"Well, I am not going to work for at least a week," declared Sirius. "Not after that."

"Good," said Aletha. "You'll have time to recover from your concussion."

"What concussion?"

"The one you're about to get when that chair goes over backwards."

"My chair's not–"

CRASH.

"Nice timing," said Danger, nodding approvingly.

Remus chuckled. **The cubs aren't the only ones glad to be home,** he said in her mind.

Danger chose to answer with images instead of words, detailing exactly how she wanted to celebrate their homecoming.

Sirius picked himself up off the floor and looked at Remus. "Why are you blushing?"

Life at the Marauders' Den was back to what passed for normal.

How long it would stay that way was anyone's guess.

* * *

Harry sat with Remus and Sirius in the kitchen of the cottage. Emmeline and Hermione were in the living room, talking about some obscure form of Transfiguration. The three wizards had been talking as well, about Quidditch, but now they were just sitting.

"Been a weird few days," said Sirius finally, breaking the silence.

"Weird may not be strong enough," said Remus. "Bizarre, completely insane, blow-up-in-your-face strange, maybe."

"There's just one thing I'm still wondering about," said Sirius.

"What?" asked Remus and Harry together.

"Where did Dumbledore get that feather I floated?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "He could have _conjured_ it," he said as if to a very small child.

"But why did he go into Harry's bedroom to do it?"

Harry froze. He'd forgotten about his room. "Er, I don't think he conjured it," he said weakly. "But I do think I need one of you to help me fix something."

Both wizards looked at him. "What did you do?" asked Remus warily.

Harry grimaced. "You'd better just see it." He pushed his chair back and got up. Sirius and Remus exchanged one look – _teenagers_ – and followed him.

Life at the cottage in Kent was back to what passed for normal.

How long it would stay that way was anyone's guess.

* * *

(A/N: And we're finished! All done, all over! I decided to leave Draco's fate open, so you get to decide for yourselves – will he take Dumbledore up on the offer, or will he decide it's still cooler to be a Death Eater?

For those who asked: No, this will not be taking place in the actual Danger universe. However, something rather scary and traumatic will happen to the Pack at almost exactly the time this story took place. And it may well have some of the same effects, ship-wise... I make no promises, but just keep your eyes open, eh?

Ah, now I have to get my head into thirteen-and-twelve-year-old gear again, and start thinking about "Dealing with Danger". I'm trying to decide – should I write a nice fluffy opening chapter and introduce the tension in Chapter 2, or should I just go for action straight from the get-go? Input?

Thanks again to Neurotica for letting me do this, and to all of you for reading and reviewing – so please do it just one last time for this story, and I'll try to have DwD up soon for you!)


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